What We Discover
by TaintedMoonlight
Summary: There are some things in life you have no control over, and family is one of them. Hating them and despising them is ridiculously easy. Loving them and caring for them is infinetly difficult. Sometimes love is irrational, but sometimes, it's all you need.
1. The Heart of Dreaming

_**What We Discover**_

**Ch. 1:** The Heart of Dreaming

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"Look at the little loser!" The academy students gossip horribly. They were always gossiping. Temari had never known males were such the scandalous little boys. "Pathetic! It's a good thing he's decided to quit. He can't do a _thing_ right! Maybe he'll become a cobbler." They snicker. Temari's fingers ball up into a fist. She hates those boys. Hates them with a passion. She shouldn't be listening to their conversation anyway, she reminds herself. She shouldn't lose her temper now. "He can fashion our shoes while we go on missions. Even his worthless _sister_ is better than he is. She just a freakish girl, but at least the twit has some skill. That idiot is hopeless. Good thing he gave up! He never would've graduated."

"Shut up!" she screams at them, her self control slipping. "My brother is no quitter!"

"News for you, loser. The moron quit this morning. He told our sensei." The boys snicker. "Of course sensei told him to think it over, but even sensei thinks it's for the best. He told the fat boy so!"

She doesn't know what she's thinking really. She just knows that she's shaking and she probably shouldn't act on impulse, but she can't help it. She swings her arm at him. Temari thinks she hears a crack as her fist slams into his face; she desperately hopes his nose is broken.

"YOU BITCH!" the boy screams at her.

She hits him again. "Don't call me bitch."

His two friends pull out kunais. They're going to attack her for what she did. She's not even armed; she can't really defend herself against two boys prepped with kunais. Maybe if they weren't good shinobi-in-training, but they're excellent.

She feels a hand pull her back and now Kankurou is in front of her. "Leave her alone."

The boy she hit is grabbing his nose. "That whore bwoke my nose!"

"Then you should've defended yourself." Kankurou grumbles. "She's just a stupid girl."

"She needs to be taught a lesson." One of the other boys says.

Temari wants to murder him. If she had her weapon she would beat those boys to the ground.

"I don't think the Kazekage would like you attacking his daughter. Whether he likes her or not." Kankurou continued in disinterest

The boys all pause. They hate her. Oh, they hate her _so_ much, but they don't want to get in trouble with the Kazekage. They're all terrified of him.

"She might also get Gaara to attack you." Kankurou adds. "She's fucking crazy like that."

The boys' eyes then widen. They don't want to mess with Gaara. He's more frightening than anyone else in the village.

The boys depart with scowls and a few more insults. At her _and_ Kankurou.

"You didn't need to do that." She growls at him. "I would've been fine."

Kankurou rolls his eyes at her. "You're not even armed."

"So?"

"Whatever, Temari." He grumbles and starts to walk away.

Temari will never admit it to Kankurou, but she's glad he did that. Even when it seems like her brother doesn't care, he's always looking out for her. Temari doesn't think she's ever done anything for him. It makes her a little sad, but…she doesn't do anything about it.

Kankurou is too soft-hearted. It's hard for him, to live with the fact that she, Gaara, and the Kazekage are his family.

"Wait!" She calls after him. "Kankurou! Wait for me!"

"Why bother? You never wanna be around me anyway except to bother me." He kicks the dirt.

His eyes are sullen and depressed, frown evident, and hands hanging limply at his sides. She never notices him much; she's always too busy, but when she does spend time with him he's always like this. It irks her, so she pesters him a bit. Trying to incite an action in him. Anger tends to be the easiest one to create, also the one she's most familiar with; so she riles him up. Just because she likes his teeth baring and eyes hard better than the posture he wears now. It makes her feel funny to see him so…sullen. Looking at him that way. She supposes if she were a better sister she would know how to fix it, but she doesn't, so she does what she can.

"Can you believe the nerve of those boys? Saying you quit!"

"I did."

Temari trips. She's too shocked to even stand. She just sits there, legs awkwardly resting underneath her, dust settling on her clothes. "You what?!"

He sighs and then sits beside her. "I quit." He's looking up at the sky, the sullen expression in his face more evident than it's ever been.

"What did you do that for!?" she scolds him. "Just tell sensei tomorrow that you were feeling sick and I'm sure he'll let—"

"No, Temari." He says firmly. "I don't want to go back. I quit."

Her eyes narrow. An anger she's never quite felt rising in her veins, in her very blood. "You're a shinobi, Kankurou." It's different from the usual anger, when she can't think anymore. It's very different.

"Not anymore."

"What is your problem?!" she says to him. "Why would you bother quitting!?"

"Temari, just drop it."

"I will NOT drop it. You are going to explain to me why you've decided to quit!"

He growls. "Because I'm sick of dealing with people like you."

It hurts her. Mostly because he's never said anything like that to her. Because she's heard these things from everyone but him. He's always been the one who jokes and laughs and makes light of everything. He never – he's never really been mean like that.

"You know how much I despise you, Temari?" He glares at her. "You and the lot of them. Horrid things. Turning your nose down at—"

"I've never turned my nose down at anybody!" she protests weakly.

"You think you're better than me."

Temari blinks and looks at her hands shamefully.

She does.

For a really long time she's hated him, because he's always had everything. He didn't have to work for things like she did.

Gaara, she, well, she was terrified of him, but she held a respect and admiration for him.

Kankurou? To her he was…a joke. He didn't work for anything he got, he was lucky and because of that she decided she was better. He was weak. He had everything handed to him and even then he didn't do anything with it. Except she didn't really believe that; she just _acted_ that way.

Really she thought he was better than she could ever hope to be. Because not only did he have so many more chances to become a stronger shinobi, but his personality was already ten times better than hers. He was really kind, and tried to understand people before judging them, he would never _never_ put someone down just because others did the same; he was a good person. Deep, deep down, he was moral. He was good. And she envied that.

Sometimes she imagined its how things worked. Gaara was born the devil, Kankurou the angel, and she was the impish thing that always wanted and was incapable of giving. The thing that shouldn't have been born. A mistake.

"I'm sorry."

The bitterness edges out of his eyes and words just as quickly as it sprung. He's all sorrow again. "Never mind. Ignore it. I'm just…depressed."

"You're depressed too often." She snaps at him.

Kankurou sighs in irritation. "Can you just go?"

An angel shouldn't be saddened by the cruelty of the world, she reasons. An angel should do something about it. "If you quit, Kankurou, I'll kill you."

Kankurou stares at her. Dumb shock on his face. "Y-You won't kill me."

She scares him sometimes. She knows. Despite his good nature she sees it in his eyes, he thinks of her as a freaky imp too. An imp he likes, but is terrified of nonetheless. But even _he_ doesn't believe her threat. "Probably not." She replies to him. "But I _can_ make your life a living hell. We live in the same house after all."

"I'm no good as a shinobi, Temari."

She glares at him.

He cowers. Just a bit.

"And who says that, dummy?"

"I say."

She's angry again. Doesn't he realize how good he has it? He can do anything! Nobody is sitting on a pretty little throne telling him he can't become a shinobi. He – he… Why would he do that to himself? Tell himself he can't do it. It was ridiculous. She slaps him across the shoulder. Probably a bit harder than she should when she thinks about it. He's her younger brother. But he was still an idiot. "So you're putting yourself down?" She scowls, "Jeez, Kankurou, the world is going to have plenty of opportunities to push you down and beat you up, no need to do it to yourself. You'd make a fine shinobi."

"I will not! Temari, have you seen me!? I can't throw any weapon right, my kicks and punches are weaker than some civilian, and I've got no special jutsu hidden up my sleeve." He protests strongly

"So?" she sneers. "You have a ton of chakra, you're brilliant at dodging (shoot, you have more grace that a girl!), and you're obviously aware of your shortcomings."

He scowls. "That—"

"That's a good thing, dum-dum. If you know where you are weak than you can work on how to make up for it, or you know, get stronger."

"Temari, there's no way—"

"Who says you have to be the normal kind of shinobi?" she interrupts abruptly. An idea worming into her mind.

"What are you _talking_ about?"

She pulls her legs up and hugs them to her chest, smiling eagerly. "I've been researching you see." She can feel the giddiness rise up in her chest. She wants him to understand. She hopes he'll find it just as brilliant as she does. "Because the normal ninja way doesn't work for me either."

Kankurou looks at her speculatively.

Temari brushes it off and continued. "Shinobis have done things weird for ages. There's genjutsu specialists – not too appealing if you ask me, but cool nonetheless; and there was once this freaky guy who worked to make string his specialty." The way he did it was actually quite complicated and hard to understand, but the portrait she had painted in her face at the time was an action-filed one. She frowns, trying to figure out how to explain it. "It's a bit complex to explain but it sounded super cool. This dude made something as simple and fragile as string his main weapon and it worked! He was a pretty good shinobi the way the manuscripts tell it."

His expression isn't the one she'd imagined. He looks irritated. But then that was always it. She was the irritating older sister who never made any sense. "Temari," Kankurou sighs exasperatedly, "as 'cool' as that is I don't like genjutsu and—"

She's always had a mischievous penchant for not giving up. "There's also a running specialty that happens to be very rare among all villages. Not just Suna. Most people mock it, but it's very powerful when utilized the right way."

Kankurou leant forward, interested despite his inclinations. Good, he was interested now!

Temari grins widely. "Puppeteering."

He scowls. "You've got to be kidding me."

"No, no, hear me out. These people build puppets, or buy them from a builder, and they're not like ordinary, you know. They tend to be about five feet tall," she makes a gesture with her hand indicating the height, "and come equipped with numerous weapons and detachable limbs. The strings attached to the puppet aren't real strings but strings made of chakra. I hear perfecting that takes time, but the result is good. The puppet attacks. It can squeeze and stab and lots of other things depending on the puppet type." Her younger brother's eyes were open in avid fascination. They'd once seen a puppet play when they were younger. Temari had found it a rather irksome bore, but Kankurou had been hopelessly entranced by it. Quite possibly the idea of a weapon-equipped puppet was inspiring fantasies in his mind. "The puppeteer usually also fashions the artillery on the puppet with hand crafted poison. Of course, I suppose you could buy some if the case serves."

"That…It…" Kankurou pauses; she could see the gears turning in his head, "Actually sounds pretty cool."

"All it requires to be a good puppeteer from what I gather is precision, good chakra control, and well, dodging for when your puppet is inaccessible or the enemy surprises you from behind." She loves the look on his face. It's one she doesn't see quite so often. He's fascinated. He's happy. "You love the idea, don't you?" She grins.

The grin though slips from his lips slowly. The lingering sadness resurfaces again, "Tem, as cool as that sounds I can't—"

He's making excuses again. She slaps him. Temari makes sure this one isn't quite as forceful as the previous slap was. He still winces. She thinks he hates the fact that she's stronger than he is. He was brought up believing men should be stronger. Maybe they should be, who really knows; Kankurou though, he just…wasn't. But that did not mean he could quit!

She'd seen him stumble and fall countless times. She'd watched him throw a kunai at a target only to miss nine times out of ten. And the time it _did_ hit, it never hit the target quite right. It was the lack of strength. Temari wasn't sure where in the world it came from, she was sure plenty strong. She'd seen him practice enough times, with weapons and in taijutsu to know that no matter how hard he trained, he would never quite measure up to the better shinboi. His talents did not lie in brute force.

He had other talents though. He just had to open his eyes and see them. He _could_ be a puppeteer. Granted, he would have to work hard, but when it was all said and done, he would be a brilliant shinobi. Better than most. "Shut up." She scolds him, "Look, idiot, don't you dare give up. I'll help you."

"You have a hard enough time doing things for yourself as it is." Kankurou grumbles at her.

"Who cares? I won't sleep then. No big deal. What _is_ a big deal is you thinking you can quit. Only losers quit." She fumes. "Quitting is only for the sane. If you pull through the pain and hardship, you lose your sanity, but you get to see and live all kinds of crazy things."

He scoffs. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

Temari smiles broadly, because she's always wanted somebody to ask her that question. "Your dreams." She whispers it to him; because she's afraid the words will slip from her mouth and dance away from her. She's afraid if she says it too loudly, it may never happen. For her or Kankurou.

"Who says my dream is to be a shinobi?"

"Is it?"

"Maybe."

Dreams are precious, Temari thinks. They're items that you create on your own, things that are inside your own mind. She's always thought giving up on them is the worst thing you could do. Because you're dreams are who you are. She thinks that giving up on her dreams would be like giving up on herself. She doesn't want that to happen to Kankurou. Temari looks down at her hands. They're bandaged. She's had them bandaged for three weeks. Carefully she unrolls the white bandages from her hands. "Look." She extends her hands to her brother. So he can see. Temari imagines her hands should hurt, but she's felt pain on them for too long to notice it anymore. Her hands are red, and raw, and cut, and scraped, and bruised. One of the cuts opens wide letting blood spill across her palms. She can tell from the way Kankurou's eyes widen and his lip curls, that he's disgusted. He's horrified. She muses he's mostly just shocked that a girl has hands this ugly. Temari's shown them to the village girls before, just out of fun. She loves to see the way they squeal and the manner in which they recoil. Such fragile little things. "I've been working with a fan." She explains. "It's bigger than me right now. Pretty tall. And heavy to boot. I think I can make it a weapon. I've read about these kinds of things a lot. And while I haven't heard of a fan being a weapon, I'm gonna make it happen." She smirks, "So when I fight a shinobi and I pull it out they're aren't gonna know what the hell I'm doing. They won't think of me as a threat. I mean, think about it, what could a fan do? But I'll pull it off. Even if when I'm done my hands look like I shoved them down a garbage disposal."

"They already look like that." Kankurou grumbles absentmindedly.

Temari grins. "Yeah, I guess they do."

Kankurou looks up at her, confusion and pity in his eyes. "A fan, Temari? Fans are just…useless." He finishes lamely.

"Duh. That's my point. People have been looking at me with the attitude you just displayed toward my fan since I was born. If I'm gonna prove them wrong, I'm gonna do it in style. I'm gonna pick up something that is perceived to have no inherent value either. My fan and I, we're the same. We may look like we aren't much, but I'm gonna make sure that anyone who jumps to that conclusion will eat their words."

"You're pretty tough." He mumbles. "You know, for a girl."

Temari rolls her eyes. "Yeah, well you're pretty tough too, for a _boy_."

He scowls. "I just don't think – I'm not really special…you know?"

Temari looks at him blankly. "No. I don't know." How could he say that? "I think you're incredibly special. Stupid, though, always putting yourself down. Gosh, you're ridiculous."

"Those boys will be better than I can ever be."

"How do you know unless you try?"

"How would I learn puppeteering, anyway!?"

"Books." She explains. "You know, those things with words. Pretty helpful. You use them to fix all our wobbly furniture."

"Haha." He mutters dryly. "Very funny."

She grins slowly. "I know." She pokes him in the ribs. "Come on, you can't quit. You already got that you're-an-idiot attitude and can talk trash quite well. Mind you, skills like those would be a terrible thing to waste."

He pushes her.

She laughs.

"I guess I kind of do like the idea of being a puppeteer." He smirks. "They won't really see it coming then. And I'll know I'll have done something that requires more concentration that just hitting something with my fist."

"That's the spirit!"

"Thanks, Temari."

He's a weird little brother, but he means more to her than he'll ever know. A really big reason she would hate it if he quit, is that she couldn't do it alone. As lame and stupid as it sounds, she needs him. Maybe one day she'll tell him how much he means to her.

Maybe one day she'll explain how he's the only one she really considers family.

Maybe one day she'll tell him the reason she never quits, is because he's always there for her. She wouldn't have the will to continue if no one cared for her at all.

Maybe one day, she'll say those evil little words.

Maybe one day, she'll say what she fears so much.

Love is pain.

Shinobi never show emotion.

Shinobi don't have family.

_I love you, Kankurou._

* * *

**A/N:** This one's going to be a collection of one-shots concerning the sand sibling and their lives. Right now, I'm thinking about nine chapters, but if you have any suggestions/requests for a oneshot idea I'd be glad to hear them. Hope you like it!

Oh, I've also recently discovered that my birthday is on the EXACT same date of Tenten's birthday -- March 9. Very scary. So I've decided to see if I like Tenten or not (I have no opinion on her whatsoever) Do you guys know of any good Tenten fics or AMV's?


	2. Some Sort of Family

_Ch. 2: Some Sort of Family_

* * *

**A/N:** I have a feeling I messed up the tense in this one, but maybe it's just me. Oh and this type of text is **Shukaku's thoughts/words/whatever****

* * *

**

Kankurou doesn't know it, but Gaara loves watching him tinker with the puppet of his. It's not like he could very well be upfront about his interest anyway, it was very likely the brown haired boy would just run away. Not that that action would wound him or anything. People had been running from him his whole life.

That or trying to kill him.

He supposes the running is better.

Living with Kankurou and Temari still feels strange to him. He'd been living with them for a few years now, but it still didn't feel right. He felt like he'd intruded on something he shouldn't. They're always tense and jittery; something he supposes is his fault.

**It's **_**their**_** fault. Ingrates. Treating their own flesh ad blood like they treat you. You should let me taste their blood. **

The voice is louder now.

Much louder.

Sometimes Gaara imagines he should listen to the voice. Feed it. He'd killed many others before. He always considers yielding to it, just to shut the damn voice up. It always calls for Temari and Kankurou's blood though. Some nights he stands at the door of their rooms, sand swirling at his feet, contemplating ending their life. It's not like they mean anything. They were just…

But he never did kill them.

No matter how much the voice spoke.

He told himself he didn't kill them because right now they served a purpose. Temari cooked food. Kankurou helped Temari clean and usually fixed their broken appliances. No point in killing people who had an important function.

He walks into the home slowly, shutting the door behind him quietly.

Temari and Kankurou never do notice when he slips in.

They're yelling.

"Kankurou! Go to sleep, dammit!"

"I have to fix Karasu!!"

"You can fix it tomorrow!"

Kankurou is perched on the floor, his puppet in his lap, using those tools to poke at the puppet. Kankurou doesn't seem to know what's wrong with it. When Gaara had left the house earlier that day, the brown-haired boy had been attempting to fix it. Usually Kankurou fixed the thing easily; Gaara found it surprising that he is still struggling with it. Temari stands before Kankurou, hair down, eyes tired. She works too hard, Gaara thinks. He's seen her train; he thinks she's the oddest creature he's ever met. No one trains quite as hard as she does. Then again, the two people in front of him are _quite_ odd.

"Just give me a few more minutes, Temari."

The blonde rubs her temple. "Kankurou," she groans, "don't be a brat. If you don't go to sleep you won't function well in the morning."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"You're just a bossy wretch who—"

Temari's lips purse and she seems about ready to lose her temper at Kankurou when her hazy tired green eyes lock onto Gaara. She straightens abruptly and her eyes clear just a tiny bit. "G-Gaara."

Kankurou freezes.

The change in the atmosphere of the room is astonishing. It goes from warm and family-like to cold and scared.

**Let me kill them.**

Gaara doesn't say anything.

Kankurou puts aside his tools quickly. And pushes his puppet to lean against the table. Without a word the puppeteer walks up the stairs, most likely heading to his room. Gaara can hear his voice, as soft as it is, as he departs. "Fine. I'm going to sleep. G'night, Tem."

Gaara's always wondered what it would be like, if he could really be their brother.

Temari nervously looks at him. "Do you want something to eat – or…?"

**She doesn't really care. She's just afraid of you.**

"I'm fine." He rasps.

Temari nods nervously. She heads up to her room but pauses at the stairs. He wonders what she's thinking. She turns. "Gaara?"

He looks blankly at her.

**Let me kill her.**

"Ano…" she shakes her head. "Never mind."

**Useless whore. Let me—**

"Shut up." He rasps out loud.

Temari pauses halfway up the stairs.

Gaara thinks she's heard, but she just keeps going up.

Gaara sits on the couch and stares at the puppet Kankurou had leant against the table. He's never touched the puppet, but he thinks it's very interesting. He's watched his brother lubricate the weapons on it with a poison he himself had devised.

He still finds the entire contraption befuddling.

He walks over to the puppet and places it slowly on the floor. He looks it over, moving the limbs lightly, not really wanting to break anything. Not because he admires Kankurou or doesn't want the boy's treasured possession to break, but because he likes the puppet. He likes to see it in action. And if he happened to break it, it would be a while before he got to see the brown-haired boy wield it.

**You stupid boy. That thing isn't even interesting. Go kill someone for me. Since you won't kill the idiot siblings of yours at least—**

"I want to see what's wrong with it."

The next morning Gaara sits upon the couch, eyes closed, meditating. He can hear Kankurou's heavy footsteps as he jumps down the stairs. He can always tell the difference between Kankurou and Temari's movements just from hearing alone. Kankurou's steps are heavier, sporadic, and careless. Temari's are firmer, clumsy, numerous.

Gaara hears the puppeteer enter the room. "Oh, crap!" Kankurou mutters, stumbling across the floor. The puppeteer, Gaara thinks, has fallen on the floor. "T-Temari!" He calls, in what appears to be slight fear.

He can hear more footsteps – Temari's this time – and then swearing. "Ow! _What_?" A sharp intake of breath from Temari, (most likely she tripped over something and is now in pain). "What's wrong?" She hisses.

"He's not as-asleep is he?"

A long silence, then Temari's voice. "G-Gaara?"

It's always fear with them, he thinks. If he pretended to sleep, he would give them a great scare. But he was too annoyed. He cracks open his eyes and glares at the blonde. "What?"

She holds up her hands apologetically. "Ano, sorry Gaara. I thought…" A fake smile. "Sorry."

He can see her kick Kankurou firmly in the back.

The puppeteer struggles up, giving Temari a glare.

**Irritating things.**

"What do you want for breakfast, Gaara?" She asks nervously.

"I don't care."

"You never ask me." He hears Kankurou grumble bitterly.

Another kick.

The puppeteer picks himself up and takes that puppet of his from the floor to the other side of the room. Kankurou always does that. If the boy had to be in the same room as Gaara, then he would make sure to put the farthest possible distance between them.

Gaara never wanted to admit it, but he would like…like to know…like for Kankurou to act the same way with him as he did with Temari.

**Foolish. They see you as a monster they must put up with.**

It _was_ foolish.

But he still wants it, because…Kankurou is particularly different with Temari than with everyone else.

With other shinobi he is proud, tough, firm, and blatantly cruel. With Temari, he seems to…melt. He is childish – immature. Granted he is still irritatingly sarcastic, and still insults her as he does others. But the tone in his voice is rather different. It's…warm. He is joking and strange. He is also rather…kind, Gaara figures.

Temari changes too.

With the outside world, the blonde is callous, indifferent, strong, tough, and vicious. Inside this home, she is…beautiful. She is firm and bossy, but caring. She smacks Kankurou, and kicks him, and yells at him; but she also laughs with him, smiles at him, comforts him, and plays with him. It is like the shell of her skin peeling off to reveal she is actually soft and fleshy inside.

He likes to see them change. He likes the way they relax with each other. It's…something. Something special. Something he wishes he could have with them, but knows he never can.

"Oy, Temari," Kankurou calls out.

"What?" she asks exasperatedly.

"Did you fix my puppet?"

The frown on her lips reaches up to her eyes. "What? No. I don't know how to fix that infernal thing. It's so complicated."

Kankurou's eyebrows draw together. "Then…?"

The puppeteer looks briefly at him, and then looks away.

Gaara knows what he's thinking.

_No. Not possible._

Gaara doesn't even know why he did it.

They don't run from him, maybe.

They don't…they don't lock their doors, that's some sort of trust in him.

They don't pretend he doesn't exist.

Maybe it's because…even though he doesn't think they are a family to him, or he is a family to them, it's still the closet thing he'll ever have.

He can pretend right?


	3. Protect Our Own

_Ch. 3: Protect Our Own_

* * *

"Kankurou!" Temari hisses at him. "What are you doing, you idiot!"

He straightens. "I'm looking for my hat."

Temari sighs. "The Kazekage will kill you if he finds you."

"He won't. Him and some of the council are too busy discussing Gaara's fate at the moment."

Temari's brow furrows. "Say what?"

He points at the large ornate door leading to the Kazekage's office. "Gaara's fate. They don't think he should become a genin because no team will be safe from him."

Temari's eyes dart to the door.

She bites her lip trying to decide if she should snoop. She really, really wants to know what's going on….Sure, the red-head is a creepy demon evil thing but that _thing_ is still her flesh and blood. Doesn't she have a right to skulk around?

"Temari." Kankurou murmurs warningly.

"I have a right to know!" she exclaims to him. Temari creeps over carefully to the door.

Kankurou wrings his hands. "Jeez, Temari, you're going to get us into trouble!"

"If you would shut up, neither of us will get into trouble."

Temari kneels down on the floor by the door and presses her ear to it.

Kankurou grumbles about angrily for a bit, before settling down beside her. "If we get in trouble—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Temari waves him off. "Listen."

Inside an irate voice, _not_ the Kazekage, grumbles. "_We need to get rid of it once and for all."_

It? Surely they weren't talking about Gaara?

"_No one can kill it. Many shinobi have tried."_

"_Tell that other son of yours to do it. He lives with that monster. Surely he has plenty of opportunities to murder the thing. Or even the daughter. She'll do anything for recognition." _Temari can hear the mirth in their voices at the last bit.

Beside her, Kankurou's eyes are wide. "They want to kill Gaara?"

"They want _us_ to kill Gaara." Temari scowls.

"They can't do that!" He hisses.

"Obviously." Temari stands up and turns the knob.

"Temari!" Kankurou hisses in panic. "What are you doing?!"

"Giving them a piece of my mind."

"Temari!"

Temari walks into the room defiantly.

"What," the Kazekage growls, "do you think you're doing?"

"Would you look at that?" one of the council members says in amusement, "You're little children are ungrateful snoops."

Temari doesn't know why she feels so strongly about them killing her brother. Really, she doesn't know why she _shouldn't_ want them to kill her brother. That red-head threatened to kill her and Kankurou far on a daily basis. Obviously they meant nothing to him. He'd hurt them many times before in the past too.

Temari just…even if that boy _is_ demented and scary and…there's something seriously wrong with him, she can't shake the feeling that he's her family.

He's been through hell, too. Worse than she or Kankurou have ever had to suffer, because well, _hell_ he's grown up in the same dysfunctional village, in the same cruel family, but he also has a devilish monster inside of him. He got the short end of the very short stick. If anyone deserved to be cruel and unfeeling it was Gaara.

The scary thing probably was that, as frightening and terrifying as Gaara was, the Kazekage was worse. Or so she felt. Gaara had a reason for being the way he was; the Kazekage was just a blackened core with blackened skin and sharp poisonous teeth.

Temari wanted to believe somewhere inside the red-head, there was something human. Something waiting to be awakened.

She was just too scared to do the waking herself.

But she'd be damned if she let the Kazekage murder Gaara.

"You can't kill him." She says to him.

"I can do what I please." He scowls at her. "What, have you grown fond of the disgustingly evil monstrosity, daughter?"

She wants to spit at him. She hates being called his daughter. She _refuses_ to be called _his_ daughter. "You can't kill him." She repeats.

The council members laugh coldly. "No one will put up with him. If we make him a ninja he will kill whoever we put in his team in less than a day."

"Then put us on his team." Kankurou blinks. He seems shocked at the words that just slipped from his mouth. He looks at Temari, surprise in his very eyes. Temari is a bit taken aback that Kankurou has suggested it. Kankurou is mortified of Gaara. But she can see his eyes sharpen with determination. He probably hadn't thought he'd say it, but he certainly _meant_ it.

The Kazekage laughs.

Kankurou's eyes are hard. "I wasn't joking. Put us on his team."

"You are mad. That monster—"

Temari smirks. "Hasn't killed us yet, has he, _father dearest_?" She crosses her arms across her chest. "He lives with us; clearly he has no apparent inclination to murder either of us anytime soon. We hold no protest to being on his team, and he is too cold to care."

"No Jounin will consent to—"

"Then your Jounin are all cowards." Kankurou spits out at him.

The Kazekage is furious. Temari can tell. But the council members, the two in the room with him, are toying with the idea.

They're starting to like it.

"Kazekage-sama," one of them begins, "it seems a worthy endeavor. That creature is decidedly powerful and if he _is_ somewhat controlled with these two vagabonds it can prove useful to us. I'm quite sure you're son is up to more dangerous and menacing missions and the girl will do anything to prove she can hack it. If we're lucky, we can get rid of the creature and crush the blonde's ambition in one blow."

Temari grits her teeth together.

"You underestimate Temari." Kankurou smirks. "If you think you can send Gaara and us off and a difficult mission to severely injure my sister and cause the death of Gaara, you don't quite realize just how strong Temari's predisposition not to lose is." He straightens. "I'll make you a prediction. In your murder attempt, you'll realize the three of us as a team are a valuable asset."

"Are you threatening us, Kankurou-san?" one of the council asks venomously.

"He's merely stating a fact." Temari replies. "I'll give you two options. Put us on a team with him, or see what happens to the shinobi you send to kill Gaara. _That_ is a threat. We may be heartless, but we protect our own, even if our own hates us."

"He wouldn't hesitate to kill you." The other council member hisses.

"We know." They both reply in unison.

Kankurou stares at his fingernails in mild interest. "The thing is, we don't particularly care."

Temari didn't know when they got so bold. Granted they were horrors around other shinobi. Horrors with their senseis. Horrors with anyone who looked down upon them or hurt them. She just never imagined she'd be talking quite so…_casually_ and threateningly with the Kazekage.

They really did protect their own.

How astonishing.

Later that night two shinobi tried to sneak into their house.

Presumably to get to Gaara.

They were found dead the next morning on the roof.

"Did you kill them?" Gaara had asked, well demanded more than asked really.

Kankurou shrugged.

Temari just looked at him.

It was the first time Temari felt something shift between them. They were a crazy kind of family, but they did understand one another.

Gaara nodded.

Not another word was said on the subject.

Soon enough, the Kazekage yielded.

They were a team.

He still threatened to kill them quite constantly, but there was something very different between them now. The difference was, she and Kankurou were now painfully aware of just how far they were willing to go. Despite everything, Temari mused, she might, possibly…

Love Gaara.


	4. What Those Idiots Mean

_**Ch. 4:** What Those Idiots Mean_

* * *

**A/N:** Don't hate me...The mentions in this chatper area bit...well...yeah... Gosh, I'm very descriptive, aren't I? It's not graphic or anything...(At least I don't think so...) It just has not-happy moments in the middle-end. I like my ending though!

Mm...So yeah...

* * *

He was a disgustingly irritating man. His skin was blotchy, his smile disconcerting, his hands rough, and an infernal cigarette was always in his foul smelling mouth. Gaara did not want this man to be his sensei. Frankly, Gaara did not want any man to be his sensei.

But _this_ particular man just rubbed him the wrong way.

**What kind of a fucking name is Yukio, anyway? Let me kill this moron.**

_No_. Despite his abhorrence of Yukio he did not want to kill him. Gaara had a reason for wanting this one alive. This man ensured his being able to be a shinobi, and as a shinobi he could meet other much stronger people. People he could pit himself against. Plus, he had a strong suspicion the reason he was allowed to be a shinobi now was because of a sacrifice that Kankurou and Temari had made. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he should at least try to refrain from killing this man.

**Bullcrap. You know what Yukio means? 'Gets what he wants'. You know what this asshole wants? To live. Let's give him what he **_**doesn't**_** want; let's kill him!**

"We're done training for today." Yukio announces.

Not that Gaara had trained with them anyway. He'd just sat back and watched. No blood was spilled, but it was interesting to watch. His 'siblings' were quite strong and determined when they chose to be.

"You can go home." He pauses. "But, Temari, I'd like to have a word with you."

Temari's blond head perks up. Her eyebrow's knitting confusion. "Oh?"

"It'll be quick."

"Ano," She's sitting on the sand, her clothes are rumpled and her hair is messier than usual. Gaara can tell she just wants to go home and relax. "Very well, Yukio-sensei."

Kankurou straightens. "Well, I'll see you, Tem. I'm fucking tired."

"KANKUROU!" she berates him. "STOP CUSSING!"

Kankurou waves her rants away. "Whatever."

Gaara stands to leave too, but something about Yukio stops him. Their supposed sensei looks…odd. His callous brown eyes are looking down at Temari's tired figure. But it's the WAY his eyes are looking that bothers him. They roam from her feet to her torso to her chest, and they linger there for a bit, before exploring every other crevice of her body. He doesn't like that look in the least. Temari, who's lying on the floor, her green eyes staring up at the sky, doesn't notice it all. Gaara's never once given any thought to her outfits in the past, but looking at her now, he's a bit disturbed. As far as he can remember, (except for this one brief period) Temari has always worn dresses. Her current one is mauve with a low neckline, not too tight, but not too loose. Underneath the dress is a tight red tank top, and it's tied in the middle with a dark purple obi. The red top stretched underneath is visible throughout the light fabric of her dress. It looks very nice on her, probably _too_ nice on her. Shukaku is always complimenting it; of course, right after he does he demands her blood, so Gaara never much pays attention to the demon. But as Gaara looks at Yukio, he thinks there's something wrong with her outfit.

**You should kill him.**

_Why is he looking at her that way?_

**NOW you choose to talk to me? Fine time. Only when it's convenient for you.**

_Fine, don't tell me._

Yukio looks at Gaara. Then man wants him to leave but is too afraid to say so.

Temari flicks her eyes to him, noticing him for the first time. "Ano, G-Gaara, do you wish for something?" She sits up and looks at him.

"No." Gaara doesn't miss the way the man's eyes have redirected back to Temari. The way he seems to be…exploring her. Gaara takes one last look at the man's eyes and uses his sand to teleport a few blocks away. Settling on the floor, Gaara activates his eye where he had previously been – where Temari and Yukio were.

**Why the hell do you care so much about that blonde?**

_I'm curious._

**No need. I can tell you what it all means. I was human once.**

_So? What does it mean?_

Gaara can feel the demon grin inside him.

**He wants her.**

_Wants?_

**Physically.**

_I don't understand._

**I forget how stupid you are.**

With his eye know activated, Gaara can see what's going on. Yukio's look has not disappeared. Not in the least. In fact, it seems stronger, more obvious, and perhaps a bit more sinister.

Temari looks up at him. She notices. Her eyes narrow and she stands effortlessly placing a good degree of distance between her and the man.

The drawback to the eye Gaara notices, is he can't hear what's going on. Gaara makes a mental note to learn how to read lips.

Yukio moves closer to her, his eyes looking at her in that disgusting manner. Temari takes a step back and seems to shout something at him. Yukio pays no mind. His hand wraps around Temari waist and leans forward to mutter something in her ear. Temari struggles furiously and turns a bright red. She tries pushing him away, she tries to dance away from his grasp, but she's too exhausted from their training and her fan is out of her reach. Yukio's hand seems to slip up her dress. Temari's expression turns furious and…scared. Not the kind of scared she displays toward Gaara sometimes. A different fear, a _worse_ fear.

_What's happening!?_

**Wouldn't you like to know? **Shukaku taunts

_What is happening? _He demands of the demon.

**He's taking her. He's taking something from her that she doesn't want him to have. He's violating her.**

He's still not quite sure what the hell Shukaku is talking about, but he feels an odd twist in his gut. Whatever is happening shouldn't be happening to her, that much he knows. He dispels the eye promptly and appears before them. Temari is trying to scream, but her mouth is gagged so all that comes out are muffled murmurs. Yukio's hands are all over her and for some strange reason Gaara feels angry. Without thinking the cork pops from his gourd and darts and Yukio.

He doesn't think Temari or Yukio have time to react or even realize what's happening.

The sand slams into the brown-haired man's side forefully. Yukio is pushed to the sandy ground. His brown eyes are wide with unrelenting fear. Temari sinks wearily to the ground and pulls at the bind across her mouth.

"Wh-What are you doing?!" Yukio demands.

"What am _I_ doing?" Sand dances around his 'sensei's' body and pushes him up. "Care to explain what _you_ were doing?" Gaara rasps slowly.

"I wasn't – I wasn't!"

Sand closes around the man's body, leaving only his mouth and eyes open. Gaara contemplates what a worse death would be: asphyxiation or gradually being crushed to death?

**CRUSHED! If you do it slowly, he'll feel every bit of it. He'll feel his skin pushing into himself, his bones grinding in a direction they shouldn't be grinding in, his insides being compressed, the blood spilling from inside of him causing him excruciating pain. CRUSH him slowly. Let him suffer for what he did.**

_So you think he did something wrong?_

Shukaku's voice is smug and haughty. **Of course. I want to taste the blonde bitch's blood as much as anybody, but she's still your kin. If anyway should hurt her, it's you.**

Sand closes around the man's mouth, but leaves his nose open. He doesn't want to hear him scream. Slowly he presses the sand against the brown-haired man. Slowly it crushes the man from the inside. He can see the furious pain in the man's eyes as he destroys every bit of his body. Then blank.

He's dead.

Temari is breathing heavily, her face is flushed, her shoulders are shaking and in her eyes…there's not fear, but relief – gratitude even.

Yukio's body falls to the floor as Gaara's sand slides back into his gourd. Gaara bends down to pick up the cork and slides it in its place. He looks at the blonde, ever more curious than before. Wearily, she manages to sit up somewhat.

"Why…" she's still having trouble breathing correctly, "Did you do…that?"

**Can we kill her too?**

_Shut up._

"Did he hurt you?" Gaara is surprised at his own question.

"I-I…N-no. Not really." She pauses. "You stopped him before he did anything." Shakily she pulls her dress down, patting it into its proper place. "How did you…did you even…?"

"I was watching with my eye. Be more observant, Temari." He rasps coldly. This is the most he's ever said to her. And from the shocked expression in her green eyes, he knows she's noticed. "It would do you well to always carry extra weapons with you."

She nods dumbly.

Gaara is about to teleport away with his sand, when the pretty blonde speaks.

"Th-Thank you."

"Don't." He responds coldly. "I would just as easily kill you." Shukaku's eager chants raise a decibel in volume. "This has nothing to do with protecting or saving you, oneesan."

He disappears then, but his words echo in his mind. He called her _sister_. He also told a slight lie.

He _would_ just as easily kill her.

He _did_ constantly think about killing her.

He _still_ wanted to kill her sometimes.

BUT, what he did just awhile ago had everything to do with protecting and saving her. He didn't like the way Yukio had looked at her. He didn't like the things Yukio was doing to her. And he most certainly didn't like what Yukio was trying to take from her.

Even if he still wasn't entirely clear on what Yukio had been doing. Just that it was something – something bad.

Temari was a strong and beautiful creature. But sometimes she was just so _stupid_. Sometimes, he thinks, she needs someone to look out for her.

**Why do you want to keep that slut alive?**

_I…I like her._

She wasn't his sister, not really. Maybe he wanted her to be his sister. Like he wanted Kankurou to be his brother, but the fact of the matter was that they weren't. They feared him. Maybe hated him. But that didn't mean he was going to let those idiots kill themselves.

If they were going to die.

He would be the cause of it.


	5. Attitude is the Source

_**Ch. 5:** Attitude is the Source_

* * *

Temari bows her head down, her hands are clasped behind her back and her fingers are fighting and fidgeting terribly. Her blonde gold hair swinging before her serves to ease her nerves if just a bit. It wasn't a ridiculous request. It was perfectly reasonable. She was after all fourteen, a decent enough age; some were allowed to do it at the age of _six_. It wasn't ridiculous, she reasons calmly. She's strong and far more intelligent than quite a few of this year's entrants. It made sense. 

The Kazekage laughed coldly. "A lovely joke."

Temari turns up to glare at the man. _At her supposed father_, "It was not a joke."

His lips are curved into a smile, but there is nothing warm about his expression at all – it's purely cold and warning. "No."

Baki acknowledges his decision with grace. "Very well, Kazekage-sama."

Temari isn't quite so ready to give up. "You are a fucking idiot, you know that!? I'm better than half—"

The Kazekage's eyes gain a sharp look and Baki covers her mouth with his hand. "Enough, Temari." Baki hisses at her.

Baki means well and she hold more respect for him than for any other adult she's ever met so she nods and bites the insults and fury down.

The Kazekage nods, but the fury in his eyes is still evident.

"Thank you, Kazekage-sama." Baki states formally, pushing Temari in front of him, making to leave.

"Baki?" The Kazekage prompts authoritatively.

Her sensei turns. "Yes?"

"You have not put in a request for Kankurou."

Temari blinks and feels an unknown fury boil inside of her.

"I do not believe he is ready quite yet." Baki explains.

"Well _I_ believe he is." The Kazekage orders.

Baki nods. "I will broach the subject with him."

Temari bites down on her lip so hard, trying not to yell, to curse, to hurt someone so badly. Like she wants to. Baki pushes her gently and they exit. All the way out of the building Temari says nothing. Instead she lets the blinding fury grow rapidly inside her.

At one point she becomes aware that she's bit down on her lip so hard that it's begun to bleed.

"Temari," Baki begins, "don't—"

"Save it." She spits out.

"It is not your brother's fault."

She's a much better shinobi than Kankurou is. MUCH better. She's also better at thinking through in a battle, better at keeping calm, just plain fucking better! But _she_ just gets shoved aside because she was born with the wrong freaking body organs. Kankurou didn't even _want_ to take the exam. He didn't – He didn't – ugh! "It's never his fault, now is it?" Temari replies bitterly. "He's just the lucky little _prince_."

Baki looks down at her in slight frustration. "It does you no good to push away the only person who actually sees you for who you are."

"It does when he gets everything I deserve."

Baki's contempt would be noticeable from across the other side of the village. "I was wrong. You aren't ready."

Temari's head whips at her sensei so quickly her neck pains. "What?!" she seethes.

"Life is unfair. But you've yet to learn that just because you are better in certain aspects, doesn't mean you're a better person. A shinobi is no good if he or she is filled with anger at the world."

"Why shouldn't I be angry!" she exclaims.

"Because it poisons you. You're valor may not be recognized, but don't destroy the valor of others, it only dulls you. Work to make them see."

"What do you _think_ I've been doing?!" she fumes. "I'm better than half those idiots they have enrolled in the Chuunin exams. _I always have been._"

"Hatred is an ugly thing, Temari. Let it go."

She scowls. "I have a reason to keep it."

"A poor one."

She doesn't reply.

"Do you honestly believe your brother shouldn't get this chance?"

"He's an idiot."

Baki shakes his head. "I'm sorry to find that _you_ are one."

"He's not ready and you know it!"

"I think he needs to work on his attitude and lose his over-confidence, but he has more than enough talent and intelligence. His arrogance is his vice. That doesn't mean I don't believe he could not achieve Chuunin status. I just don't feel his ego needs this."

Temari bites her lip again, surprised to find that it hurts more than before. Fresh blood pours from the wound. She turns away from her sensei heading home. She sees him shake his head sadly as she walks off.

She yanks the door open more forcefully than necessary and slams it shut harder than she should. She storms into the kitchen out of pure habit. Around this time is when she cooks. She pulls out pots and pans at random, completely unaware of the obscene amount of ruckus she's making.

SLAM!

BAM!

CLANG!

CRASH!

Kankurou! _Kankurou_! It's always about him, isn't it? He's just so damned ass lucky. The first boy, and _**oh**__, such a good boy at that_. He's a brilliant shinobi. A very promising puppeteer. She is embittered beyond compare. It was her fucking suggestion in the first damn place! He wouldn't even _be_ a shinobi if it wasn't for her. He wouldn't be—ugh! She should be used to this. She should be used to being shoved aside for her gender. She should have expected this. And she definitely should have expected Kankurou getting 'nominated'. The idiot didn't even try! He trained nowhere near as hard as she did. He read nowhere near as much as she did. He listened nowhere near as much as she did. He ignored all suggestions, pissed of every person, and underestimated every opponent. She had saved his thoughtless ass more than five times. Even Gaara has saved his worthless body once! He was a lazy, good-for-nothing, trash-talking idiot! So he could handle a few damn puppets. SHE WAS TOUGHER! He didn't even think in missions, he just went with his gut. Sure, he _could_ be a great shinobi, but he didn't fucking bother!

Temari was vaguely aware that Gaara had walked into the room and was staring at her in absolute in confusion. She was too furious to care.

"Tem?" Kankurou asks suddenly, his voice slightly amused.

"What?!" She seethes, whirling around to face him.

The slight grin drops from his face immediately and he backs away a bit. "Oy, what's up with you?"

"Leave. Me. Alone."

Kankurou frowns. "What the hell happened?"

Temari clenches her fist tightly. She tries to remind herself not to blow at him. Tries, because Baki says she shouldn't, but all she wants to do is tear him a new one. Right now, she absolutely hates her younger brother.

"Tem?" His voice is warmer, more worried.

"FUCK OFF."

Kankurou scowls. "Dammit! What the hell is your problem with me? What the fuck did I do?!"

Her lips purse and she can feel her blood boiling. "WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT DID YOU DO?! WHAT THE FUCK HAVEN'T YOU DONE TO ME!"

Kankurou's face is shocked. If she could think clearly, she would realize that this would be the first time she's ever raised her voice in such pure and honest resentment at her brother.

"EVERYTHING I TRY SO FUCKING HARD TO GET, EVERYONE JUST WANTS TO BLEEDING GIVE TO YOU! _OH, YES_, YOU ARE SO DAMN WORTHY OF EVERYTHING YOU'VE EVER BEEN GIVEN. YOU'RE SO FUCKING PERFECT – SO DAMN ASS LUCKY! YOU DON'T TRY! YOU _NEVER_ EVER TRY! YOU DO EVERYTHING HALF-ASSED AND IF IT WEREN'T FOR ME YOU'D PROBABLY BE SOME DUMB-ASS BAKER OR BEGGAR OR SOMETHING EQUALLY STUPID! IF IT WEREN'T FOR ME YOU'D BE DEAD! AND STILL – AND _STILL_ I HAVE TO CRAWL THROUGH GLASS AND THEY LAY OUT THE DAMN CARPET FOR YOU! I HAVE TO NEARLY KILL MYSELF WITH EXHUASTION AND YOU JUST – JUST HAVE FUN! THEY SIGN YOU UP FOR THE DAMN EXAMS! FUCK! YOU SHOULDN'T BE A SHINOBI! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE ONE! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU TO THE FUCKING CORE! I _HATE_ YOU!"

Temari can feel her shoulders shaking, her pulse racing, her eyes whirling, her head ringing and her throat hoarse. It's still not enough. The bright red of her anger is still flowing inside her. _It's still not enough._ She is dumbly aware that Gaara actually seems to be in shock. She is dumbly aware that Kankurou looks wounded. He looks hurt – broken. But in her anger, she just wants to tear him to even bigger pieces. She wants him to _scar_.

"I'm sorry, Tem." His voice is soft and hurt. It's broken and it's truly apologetic.

Her desire to tear him apart fades, but the anger does not. She brushes past her brothers quickly, heading up to her room. She slams the door shut behind her and slides to the floor.

And she cries.

Temari doesn't remember the last time she cried. She's never wanted to cry, because she knows it weak, because she's been told it's a female trait. Because when she cries her chest heaves and her heart hurts. Which is stupid, because by all logic and scientific reason, her _heart_ shouldn't hurt. And as she sits on the floor, water pouring from her eyes, horrible sobs and squeaks parting from her lips, her chest heaving and eyes stinging, she finds she's crying for nothing and for everything.

It just hurts.

After all this time, it still hurts; and the worst part of it is, every time she hurts she takes someone down with her.

She cries for this most of all.

Because somewhere deep down she's afraid she's the worst person in the world and an even more horrible sister.

xXxXx

She hears his footsteps and senses his chakra long before he even knocks upon her door. The knock is soft and tentative.

Temari is now sitting on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest looking out the window. She feels sorry. And terrible. And afraid that Kankurou will hate her for what she's said to him. "Come in."

He opens the door slowly and walks in calmly. He leaves the door open, as he tends to do whenever he enters any room. Sometimes Temari has wondered if he's afraid of closed spaces. "Hey, Tem."

She can't look him in the face so she stares resolutely at the floor.

Kankurou sits beside her on her bed. He's quiet.

"I'm sorry." Temari breathes quickly.

"Don't be. You're right."

Temari shakes her head. "I don't hate you."

Kankurou slides a scroll into her lap. She feels him stand. "I'm not taking the Chuunin exams. I'm not ready. Not in the least."

She looks up, feeling horribly guilty, "Look, don't do that just because—"

"I'm not refusing because you yelled at me. I'm refusing because behind your anger there was a very good point. I'm not ready. I know that, and Baki knows that."

"You could be Chuunin." She assures him weakly.

Kankurou smiles. "Damn, Tem, if you're gonna assure me of something you don't want me to get sound just a little bit believable will you?" He shakes his head in mock appall. Temari fidgets, but smiles a bit. He's right of course, she doesn't really want him to be Chuunin, but the way he says it is warm. He's forgiven her. He doesn't hate her. "Even if I could, which I doubt, I still wouldn't deserve it."

"Kank—"

"Save it." He smiles again. "I don't need you to go psycho on me again." He begins to exit the room quietly. "Oh, and Tem?"

"Hm?"

"I'm always going to forgive you; you know that right?"

"I do now."

With that he slips into the hallway and wanders off.

Temari picks up the scroll he'd slid into her lap. She unrolls it carefully and reads it. As soon as she's finished the scroll slides from her fingers and hits the floor. Her breath catches in her throat and she feels a bit dizzy. It's a letter, telling her she will be enrolled in the Chuunin exams if she desires. Temari looks at her hands to find them shaking.

How did he do it?

How did he…?

She jumps slightly as her eyes take in the form of Gaara standing in her doorway. Her heart panics a bit before calming slowly. He doesn't have his gourd with him and his eyes don't have that manic look he gets when he wants to kill someone.

"…"

Temari waits for him to say something, because it seems like there's something he wants to say.

"…He only does…as poor as he does…because…" Gaara says slowly, "…he…likes being around you…and doesn't want to be…want you to be…he's trying to stay with you. He doesn't try…until he knows you will be…accepted."

Temari takes a few minutes to process his words. She looks dumbly at the scroll on the floor. "Then why…?"

"You're…important to him. At least, that's what he…said to…it."

Gaara was the only one of them who didn't call the Kazekage 'Kazekage'. He called the Kazekage 'it'. It was an odd way of phrasing, but Temari had gotten used to it.

Important?

Important?

"Thank you for telling me that, Gaara."

The redhead boy just looks at her coldly. "If you yell like that again, I will kill you. It hurt my head."

Temari falters. "Ano…Sorry, I won't…sorry."

The redhead the promptly disappears.

Temari's fingers clasp around the scroll once more and she looks it over calmly.

Chuunin exams.

Temari stays up the entire night looking at the scroll and thinking over both of her brothers' words.

The next day Temari shakes her head and tells the Kazekage she doesn't wish to enter the exams this year. The Kazekage is shocked but plainly pleased. Temari bites her tongue, trying not to insult the man as he insults her.

"I should've known your insistence was just the nonsensical vehemence of a female." He clucks. "Such pitiful creatures."

Pitiful creatures. Temari inwardly growls. She closes her eyes and tries to calm herself. After all, killing the Kazekage would sentence her to death – the painful and public kind. After a bit of tuning out the jackass she felt Baki's fingers grip her shoulder and turn her around. Good, they were leaving.

Nothing was said between them until they exited the building, then Baki turns his head to look at her quizzically. "Why did you turn it down?"

Temari watches her feet as she walked, surprised to find she was actually interested in the imprints her feet made. "You were right. I need some attitude adjustments to make."

His lips quirk up. "While I don't doubt that one bit, getting you a second chance is incredibly hard, you realize? I can get Kankurou, _even Gaara_ a chance ten times easier than it would be to get one for you. Normally, I do advise to refrain when an attitude problem is prominent but with you…"

Temari shrugs. "I'm willing to take that chance."

He smiles. "Why do I get the feeling that your personality has changed significantly since yesterday?"

"It's amazing what a rant, some tears, some words, and a threat can do to your outlook."

His lip twitches. "Will I hear this story?"

"Maybe someday when we're bored."

"What's the real reason?"

Temari looks up at her sensei. "I have a family. Proving myself isn't that important when I have a family. I'd rather keep them."

"I'm sure Gaara and Kankurou would—"

"You're part of my family too, Baki-sensei."

His lips twist into an 'o' and he looks a bit shocked, then slightly happy. It's barely visible, but its there.

"Besides, _**I**_ already know I kick ass. The rest of the world can wait to see."

Baki chuckles lightly.

Temari listens to his laughter and thinks he's right. It is going to be really hard to get her a second shot. But it can be done. She knows deep in her heart that it can, and the time will come when she'll do it. But for now, it's okay.

She still thinks she isn't a very good sister.

After all, she's quite a bitch quite often.

But she can do what she can. And she is infinitely pleased to have Kankurou as her brother. He's more brilliant that she could ever imagine. And yes, there are times she hates him, and she doesn't think those times will ever really fade. There will be days when the loathing is so strong she may hurt him. All she can do is hope he really will forgive her every time, because even though she will hate him with all her might, that isn't the only thing she feels.

For all the hate, she will never be able to stop loving him.

It's hard _not_ to love him.

* * *

**A/N:** I thought of this randomly cause I remembered in the anime there was this one bit where Kankurou said something to Temari along the lines of 'you really screwed up. You would've passed if you'd taken the exams earlier.' Obviously, Temari had to have had a chance before that one, right? So…um…tell me what you think. Reviews make me happy:D 


	6. Reality is Subjective

_**Ch. 6:** Reality is Subjective_

* * *

Kankurou stands right by the doorway watching his motionless younger brother. He's sure that he should be doing something. Something family edict would require be done, but all he can do is stand there. It's all surreal to him; even by just standing there, he's waiting for this world to disappear from his eyes, to soon be fashioned by reality.

_This __**is**__ reality_, Temari had chastised him earlier. _It is, and you need to go see if he's okay_.

So here he was, standing at the door of the room, watching his younger brother. There he stood, detached and removed, in this…this _version_ of reality.

Gaara, impassive as always, hadn't said a thing as he walked in, if it weren't for the fact that Gaara never addressed anyone unless he was killing them, then Kankurou would have ventured Gaara didn't even know he was there.

The redhead simply lay on the bed, his head inclined to the side, his sea-foam eyes studiously watching the scene outside the window.

It's not like there really was anything outside the window, Kankurou muses. There were no people, no plants, no rocks, there weren't even any clouds. He wonders what his younger brother is thinking. He always has wondered. Naturally Kankurou's always perceived the red-head as a rotten child whom always felt entitled, but Kankurou never really _knew _what Gaara was or who Gaara was. And with the words (or lack thereof) Gaara said it was harder for him to know.

Sometimes that fact bothered him – Gaara _was_ his brother after all. But sometimes he was glad he didn't know: he was more than just a little afraid of what he would find. It was always 'kill you', 'kill this', or 'shut up' with his younger brother. Gaara had always been boss (if not unreasonable and in constant need of an attitude adjustment) even when they were young. He'd been boss, because he was tough, strong, highly volatile, and as Kankurou had previously thought – unbreakable.

He hadn't been there like Temari had. He hadn't seen Gaara _lose_, so the prospect in his mind was still unreal. It was still…fiction. But just seeing the small red-head lying on the bed, bandaged and immobile was enough to throw him. Gaara would heal quickly; that thing inside of him fixed everything rather quickly, but…

There was still something wrong.

Gaara had bleed. Gaara had lost. Gaara had been reduced to a state so…pitiful – so _human_. There was something – something off with those things that he just couldn't quite deal with at the moment.

Gaara was supposed to be the embodiment of fear and malevolence. How could the redhead be such things if he were human? How could…? And if he was human – if he'd always been human, then…Then he'd treated him horribly in the past.

Avoiding a demon made sense. Avoiding a troubled person did not.

He couldn't be so…human, though. He was Gaara. Gaara was not – he was not – he was not like him and Temari. He and Temari broke, cried, yelled, and would eventually die. He and Temari screwed up and lost their sense of self. Gaara was not…

Gaara was the only constant Kankurou had in his life.

That couldn't change.

"Is…" Gaara rasps slowly, his eyes still focused on the lack of image outside the window. "Temari…okay…?"

Kankurou's mouth slings open a bit. He closes it promptly trying hard to hide his shock; furthermore, trying hard not to do something girly like faint. But, those words…_Did Gaara really care?_ "She'll be okay; it's just a broken arm." The words sound foreign and sticky as he says them. Talking to Gaara feels slightly moronic. Like he were trying to have a conversation with a brick wall. A brick wall that _could_ and _would_ kill you, but still a brick wall.

Gaara turns to look at him for the first time. And for the first time in his entire life, Kankurou doesn't turn away or flinch. He doesn't really know why; maybe he just wants to be sure that he isn't dreaming. Maybe it's the stupidity of this entire thing that has him feeling more valorous than usual. Kankurou talks tough, but rarely does he ever feel brave; prior to this event, he can't remember ever just looking at his brother and feeling no fear.

The redhead's eyes are questioning, even though his face is blank. "Why…Why are you…here?"

'Temari' would be the obvious and most honest answer. Probably what he would've have answered if he wasn't in such a trance. Kankurou shrugs, the muscles in his back moving up and down feeling the smooth wall of their home. "Nothing better to do."

"You could…see…Temari."

Kankurou scoffs. "If she hadn't kicked me out." He immediately regrets saying those words and the long absence of fear dissipates. He realizes then exactly who it is he's talking to. Kankurou thinks he sees Gaara frown, but the frown doesn't seem to come until after nervousness overwhelms his body. Or so he thinks.

Gaara doesn't answer; he turns his attention back to the window.

Kankurou hears a large ruckus and then Temari bumps into him rather forcefully. Out of habit, Kankurou's hands instinctively swivel around his older sister to keep her from falling and pull her upright. Temari scowls and slaps his arms away, or tries, as she can only use one arm her effort is a bit weak. But the blonde doesn't seem to be paying attention to him. She's glancing outside the doorway in annoyance and panic.

"I'm fine!" She yells. "I don't need any stupid anesthetic! No needles! NO! Do you hear me lady? I am fine!" An elder cross lady walks into the room after Temari.

Kankurou smiles at his distraught sister as she continues yelling at the woman who was 'caring' for her. The woman had been sent home with them for the next week to care for both Temari _and_ Gaara, but no Suna civilian in their right mind would try to care for Gaara. So really she was only here for Temari.

The entire spectacle Temari puts up is quite amusing.

"Ack! No!" Temari exclaims abruptly and swivels away pulling Kankurou up from against the wall so she can hide behind him. "I'm fine! I'm fine!" Her fingers are curled into the back of his sweater, "You know what, lady?" she rants in frenzy, "You're fired! Go home! I'm fine. FIRED! Shoo!"

The nurse purses her lips. "Temari-san you need—"

"You heard…her." Gaara rasps quietly. "You're…fired…"

The nurse swallows nervously. "O-Of co-course, Gaara-san." She stutters nervously and the russet color of the nurse's pallor drains immediately, she's almost chalky pale. Kankurou wryly wonders how fast her heart is beating. It's a bit…hypocritical he's sure to find her fear amusing and bitingly irksome when _his_ constant fear of Gaara is still ever present. But the fear all those outsiders have of Gaara has always bothered him to no end. Their particular fear is rather unfounded to be honest; if anyone had a right to fear the red-head it should be him and Temari. No one else has ever seen him kill anyone. Okay, maybe Baki.

Temari sags against him and sighs in relief as they can hear the nurse practically run out of their home. "Oh thank goodness."

He turns around to look at his sister; the tightening in her fingers loosens to allow him to turn. Her hair is a bit messy and her eyes are buggy. She really was freaked. He scoffs at her. "Tem, you can't seriously tell me you're this damn freaked about a fucking needle?"

She raises her hands frantically in the air. "Why is that a bad reason? It's pointy and creepy and filled with liquid-y stuff! Worse so, they stab me with it with the expectation of me getting better!"

"It _does_ make you better." He protests calmly.

"No!" She denies. "You know what it does? It makes you loopy, gives you hallucinations, and makes your forget reality. It is an ultimate weapon that makes your opponent lose his or her footing."

"Temari," Kankurou rolls his eyes in exasperation, "she's not your opponent. She's not even a shinobi, and this most certainly isn't a battle. All she's trying to do is take away the pain."

She crosses her arms and stares down (or up, really, seeing as how he's taller than her now) at him defiantly. "I am a _shinobi_. I can handle the pain."

"Then surely you can handle a needle."

She kicks him hard with her left foot and glares at him.

Her kick hurts a little, but not much. He doesn't think she meant for it to hurt him. He laughs at her. It's at this point he notices that Gaara is looking at them. At first, Kankurou is a bit frightened, thinking that maybe they're annoying him. But as he keeps looking he notices a different look in his younger brother's eyes. One he's never seen on the redhead.

He thinks – no, he's _sure_ – he's seen it before on Temari.

Gaara is lonely.

Temari swivels about to look at the redhead lying on the bed. The blonde doesn't say anything at first. She's just staring at him rather calmly and clearly. Still not saying a word she walks over to where he's lying and sits on his bed. Gaara looks, if possible, even more confused than before. "How's your arm?" Temari finally speaks.

Kankurou is tense: if this is a dream it probably won't end well. If this is reality, it _still_ probably won't end well.

"F-Fine…"

Kankurou sags. Good, a better reaction than he'd imagined.

"Good." Temari replies.

Gaara's eyes are drawn to the window again. "…I…I'm…sorry…"

Kankurou watches his younger brother still more sure than ever that something in here isn't real. Something _can't_ be real. When Gaara had apologized as they left Konoha, Kankurou chalked it up to a chakra-empty state. Now – Now there was nothing that could justify the apology. Nothing except…

_Maybe he meant it._

"You don't have to apologize." Temari says softly. Her eyes are closed and she's fiddling with her fingers in her lap. "I should apologize. I haven't been a very good sister. I don't think I've ever been even a mediocre sister to you."

The feeling of unreality was still there. In fact it was there more than ever. Something still was…too different. Too separate. Too not the same.

He watches his brother stare at the window, that feeling – _feeling_ of loneliness and remorse in his eyes. The obvious display of vulnerability in his expression. He watches Temari fiddle with her shirt, watches her remorse.

His constants are all gone to hell, and he just…he doesn't get it.

He wants to get it. More than ever he wants to look at them and be able to just…understand. He wants to know what Gaara's thinking. He wants things to be better.

Maybe…if they tried, just a little bit, they could be – better.

Who ever said that keeping things the same was a good thing?

"Apologies are for suckers." Kankurou says to them suddenly. "That was then, this is now."

Temari frowns at him. "Kan—"

"Your friends don't need to hear your apologize and your enemies won't believe you anyway."

Temari stares at him and then a laughter spills from her lips uncontrollably. "Where did you get _that_? Have you been reading some book to make you sound like an intellectual?"

He scowls. "I'll have you know I'm very intellectual."

"In your imagination maybe." Gaara says quietly.

Kankurou stares at the redhead.

Temari does the same.

Gaara looks a bit confused and definitely anxious. "…Was that…bad?"

Temari grins. "Was that a _joke_?"

"You have humor!" Kankurou grins. "Thank Kami, I was hoping I wasn't the only non-boring one in our family."

"Hey!" Temari protests immediately.

"Nuh-uh!" He reproaches her immediately, a glorious idea occurring to him. "You can't attack me today. You're damaged. Limited mobility and all that rot."

"Only my arm is broken!"

"I'll stab you with a needle." Kankurou threatens.

"You wouldn't _dare_."

He couldn't remember the last time he and Temari had such an open conversation (or meaningless quarrel, to be technical). He couldn't remember being comfortable in a room that Gaara also occupied. And he definitely couldn't remember reality being quite so…enjoyable.

It didn't matter much, he thought as he and Temari continued arguing about whether or not he would stab her with a needle and Gaara watched. Whatever this was and wherever it was happening was all pointless anyway.

They'd been living by the rules and realities that others had imposed upon them before. They kept things statuary – the way they should be.

Sure there were some realities neither he nor Temari had accepted before, so they had fought them with every fiber in their being. The problem was, Gaara hadn't known how to fight them and he didn't have anyone to tell him he _could_ fight them. Kankurou would be sure that he would be a little better to him. Maybe he would still be afraid. He couldn't quite erase his fear so suddenly, but he would try.

Reality was subjective anyway.

Might as well make it a good reality while he was at it, right?

* * *

**A/N:** It really pains me to say this, but I'm going on hiatus.

Just for a _tiny_ bit though!

Lately, I've just been swamped by school work (MAJOR projects) and competitions. This month just isn't good for me. _**-annoyed sigh- **_So, I'm going to convince myself not to write (because otherwise I don't work and become incessantly tempted to write things. This week alone I've been bothered by over _ten_ different ideas). So, to better my grades and junk, I'm going to not write anything until my projects are finished.

Usually, I procrastinate horribly (so a lot of this _is_ my fault), but I'll try my hardest to get everything I need done really quickly. Promise. I'll be back to writing and updating -- hopefully, if all goes well -- by February 25th.

Thanks for everything, you guys are awesome reviewers and will try to finish ASAP

Much Love,

Jenni

PS. Am I the only one who hates Valentines?


	7. The Demon is Outside

_**Ch. 7:** The Demon is Outside_

* * *

"Won't you come inside with—" Temari says to him warmly. 

"No, I'll just…" His green unfocused eyes draw askance, up to the sky, "I'll wait over there, by the swing."

Temari gives an unfettered sigh, the kind she is infamous for. It seems to convey, in Kankurou's mind, what a sigh should _not_ be able to convey. She's irritated, concerned, upset, sympathetic, and slightly put off. "Are you sure? Nobody will—"

"I'm fine, Temari." He rasps.

"Alright then." She says somewhat dejectedly.

Kankurou doesn't really get why she sounds so worried, if Gaara doesn't want to come inside the store then there's no problem. Better too he muses, people don't take very well to Gaara in the public eye.

"You ought to be more concerned for your brother." Temari snaps at him as she picks out some fruit, or vegetables, or something. They all look the same to him when they're not mixed in food. They're weird and lumpy and in his opinion should come pre-cooked, not placed in box-like things where people are supposed to pick the 'ripe' ones. They all look equally odd and un-ready if you ask him.

"What for?" he grumbles leaning against the wall as Temari's fingers press against a green lump. A lemon he thinks. "If Gaara doesn't want to come in, it's best for everyone. The people inside would freak and he doesn't want to enter; there's no necessity for concern."

She throws the green lump at his head. "You don't think do you?"

"I _must_ think," he scowls, picking up the lump he tosses it back inside the box, "otherwise how would I make even relative sense of your stupid rants? With a nut like you for a sister, I _have_ to think, because nothing you say means what it means."

"Everything I say means what it means, idiot; you just don't _think_."

"Oh really? Then do tell: why should I be concerned, sister dearest?"

Her lips twist into a scowl. They only ever use the label 'dearest' when they're annoyed with each other, as Temari hates being called as such and so does Kankurou. It's a title reserved only for malicious spite.

"No need to get foul." She mutters. She's moved on to tomatoes. Or maybe apples. "I'm just saying. You've never really paused to consider his position, have you?" No, no, they are definitely tomatoes.

"_What_ position? And why would I need to consider it?"

"_Think_, Kankurou, you were given a brain for a reason." She sighs her famous sigh and drops the red tomato from her light clutch. "Haven't you ever pondered, even for a second, what it's like to be him? Have you ever bothered to think, that maybe just maybe, it's not that he doesn't want to come into these stores or restaurants with us, but he's resigned himself to the fact that everyone feels happier if he doesn't? Have you ever wondered if he thinks he's as bad as the whole damn village calls him?"

Kankurou never has liked having these conversations with Temari. When she really thinks about something and opens her voice to speak her mind, her words tend to cut through air like a knife. They seep into your skin and poison you, or maybe remove the poison; after all this time he's still not sure what _exactly_ it is her words do. He just knows that once the words begin to swim in your system, things you hadn't known become clear. Things you probably hadn't wanted to know to begin with.

There are times he thinks this is a terrible thing, as the knowledge Temari usually departs isn't happy knowledge; but then…ignorance has never helped anyone now has it? Temari's eyes are cold, that cold that doesn't make you feel bad, but the cold that awakens you from a self-inflicted blindness.

The truth is, Kankurou has always tried hard to avoid any serious thinking about Gaara. He may do things for the boy, he might have run away from the boy, he may fear the boy, he may (maybe) love the boy, but he can't…he won't…he's never wanted to wonder about the boy. To think. Because even without thinking he's known that it can't be a positive conclusion. Temari's always been good at unmasking his secret shame.

She turns around and returns to pressing her slender fingers around the fruits – vegetables, _whatever_.

How must it feel?

Gaara was different now. Ever since that failed mission in Konoha, he'd been very different. More…human-like Kankurou supposes. Naturally the red-head was awkward and stumbling and had trouble _being_ human. Gaara wasn't sure what certain sayings meant, and what phrases were jokes, and didn't understand that they could fight without really fighting. He had trouble processing the whole thing. It was like he was a baby, but one that could talk and walk and, well, had…killed people. It was strange and unusual. There were times Kankurou wondered if Gaara would kill him even now. He had always wondered and feared that before. Kankurou had always left the door unlocked when he was younger, but that had been so he could reach Temari more quickly if Gaara chose to attack her, or so Temari could reach _him_ more quickly if Gaara chose to attack _him_. He'd always been terrified of Gaara, and he still was.

Less so, but the fear was still there.

Now though, Kankurou had another reason for leaving his door unlocked. He didn't want Gaara to think he didn't…care for him. Because even though Kankurou was a little scared of the boy, he did sort of…love him.

Kankurou straightens. "I'll be outside."

"Where you going?" she asks absentmindedly, frowning as some pear or apple or something apparently doesn't seem to fit her standards. The smile that seems to threaten to tug up her lips and the glint in her eye are evidence that she knows _exactly_ where he was going.

"Oh, shut up, Temari. I'm not giving you ammunition so you can gloat or something. I'm going _outside_."

"Fine, fine, _fine_. You're such a queen, you know that?"

He scowls. "And you're a bitch, but what point is there in drudging up news like that?"

She smiles, a little one, but a smile nonetheless. "Well, isn't the world full of wonders," she says so softly it's almost a whisper. Although, he would never call ANY words slipping from his sister's mouth a whisper. Even when her voice is a tremble so low you can't hear it, it couldn't be called a whisper. Temari is incapable of whispers. "Both my brothers have a nice beating _human_ heart."

"Now we just need to find you one." Kankurou grumbles at her as he exits the store. He isn't surprised as the apple-pear-thing she'd been scrutinizing hits him in the head.

Kankurou finds Gaara standing a few feet away from the infernal tire swing Kankurou had never much liked in his childhood. Gaara stares at his feet or maybe at the swirling sand at his feet. He looks agitated, annoyed, maybe filled with a little self-loathe. Kankurou knows enough about self-loathe to spot it when he sees it.

As Kankurou forces himself to think about his brother, he thinks the redhead must be filled with self-loathing.

A good distance away from Gaara are a gaggle of chortling children. They're whispering and gossiping, pointing at Gaara in that horror struck fear that children always seem to find so amusing, in that twisted sort of way of theirs. Kankurou's always thought children are the worst of the demons. They listen to the words and whispers of the adults and swallow only the most repugnant, only the most horrific, because those are the words they recall most. And the mantra in their head becomes so resounding that they begin to believe it. But then, there are _those_ children, like Temari, and maybe Gaara if he hadn't been infused with the demon so early on, that are born thinking, and in thinking manage to save themselves and few others. Because they're capable enough to form their own opinions, to realize, that almost every word they hear tends to be a lie (at least in Suna). Sometimes, though, it's not so much a lie, he thinks, as an omission of truth.

Such is the case with Gaara.

They call him a demon.

Not a lie, just…_not right_. He harbors a demon, but that didn't _make_ him a demon. The villagers (including himself, when he thinks about it) were at the root of his transformation to the monster they feared before the redhead had ever even become it.

"Hey, Gaara."

The redhead looks up at him, unblinking. He returns his gaze to the floor. "Did you and Temari…" the rasp in his voice isn't quite as grating as it used to be, it's almost as if Gaara is becoming used to the sound of his own voice and learning how to speak in the 'melody' (as Gaara termed it) that humans tend to. "F…Finish?" Gaara says that when he and Temari talk, it's like there is music behind their voice.

"Not quite. Temari is still busy squishing fruit. Or vegetables. Or something."

Gaara's eyes narrow briefly. He's talking to that thing again.

"Is it hard?" Kankurou asks despite his disinclinations.

Gaara frowns. "Is what…hard?" His green eyes looking up at him unblinkingly.

Kankurou sighs. "I—never mind."

There's a sadness in the redhead's eyes – there's no mistaking it; Gaara turns his head back to watching his feet. Or the sand. Or whatever. "Why do you do that?"

Kankurou looks down at his younger brother. He's confused at this question. What could Gaara mean?

"You…You start a question and then you just…stop. You do that with everyone…except Temari."

"'Cause Temari doesn't care if what I say sounds moronic." He answers without thinking. It's true. No matter how stupid his question is, Temari never looks at him like he's an idiot. She may call him one, but she never means it.

"…I don't." Gaara pauses. "Care, I mean. About how it sounds…"

Kankurou realizes he may have unintentionally insulted him. "Oh. I mean, I just thought it would be…what's the word Temari is always saying...? _Insensitive_! I thought it would be insensitive if I asked you about … you know…_it_…"

Gaara frowns. "It?"

"Sh-Shukaku."

"Ah." His eyes are calm and the sand swirling at his feet seems more meaningless than anything else. It just seems to be an intriguing design weaving in and out. "It's…difficult. He's always talking. I…ignore him as best as I can."

"Hn." Kankurou can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to have something inside of him, talking all the time. When he really thinks about it, he supposes it's only natural that Gaara had become inclined to listen to the shukaku in the past, since no one else would talk to him.

The gaggle of kids seem to be trying to push one of the kids in their direction, but the child protests terribly in a blind fear. Kankurou can see Gaara's eyes tracing the children. And what Kankurou sees makes his heart break. There's no sadness or sorrow, but the resigned acceptance of a fate he's seen too many times. "I'll never be anything else will I? No matter what I do…" He rasps.

"They don't know any better." Kankurou finds himself saying. "They've been brought up on old wives' tales and don't realize that…that's all they are – tales."

"Tales shape people opinions."

"Then you just make new tales."

"How would…" Gaara began, but Kankurou was already walking over to the throng of children. He knelt down and began conversing with them. They were odd little things. He shows them a little puppet he usually carries in his pocket. They giggle and chortle as he moves it about.

"Again!" One little boy cheers.

"You see Gaara over there?"

The little boy nods fearfully. "They say he's a demon!"

Kankurou rolls his eyes. "He's just quiet. But he can do lots of fun things with his sand."

"Like what?" the smallest girl queried.

"Anything you want him to."

Kankurou is bombarded with questions. A doll. A dog. A flower. Sheez, these kids had no imagination at all.

"Can he make a playground?" The smallest girl asks quietly.

"Probably."

She fidgets. "…Will he make one if I ask him to?"

"Kaori!" the children scold her. "He'll murder you!" they hiss conspiratorially.

The girl fidgets and looks at Gaara. "Ano…"

"He won't do anything." Kankurou assures. "He's weird. But won't harm anyone."

"Kaori!" they hiss at her.

"You want to talk to him?" Kankurou asks kindly.

She swats away the hands of the children trying to pull her back and she nods timidly. Kankurou walks back to his younger brother, the little girl walking shyly behind him. The throng of children whisper ever-more vehemently.

Gaara peers at Kankurou curiously. "What are you doing?" He didn't even look at the little child hiding behind him.

The little girl, Kaori, peers from behind Kankurou at Gaara. "C-can you r-really make stuff w-with your sand…?"

Gaara's eyes go wide for a brief minute. Pure shock fills his green eyes. "A-are you talking to me?"

She nods timidly.

The sand swirling at his feet moves rapidly shaping a small sand bird. Controlling the sand he makes the little bird fly slightly around the little girl. She giggles softly playing with the sand bird. Catching it in her tiny little hands she looks at Gaara thoughtfully. "You're not so scary." She extends her hand. "I'm Kaori."

Gaara looks at the hand as if it were a foreign object.

Kankurou snickers quietly and leans in to whisper in his brother's ear. "You're supposed to shake her hand – gently. It's a way of introduction."

He frowns. "I'm supposed to…?"

"Oh, it's okay, if you don't wanna shake my hand. No adults ever do." She makes a face. "They think I'm weird."

It was the little girl's hair, Kankurou figured. It wasn't quite a normal color. A violent excessively bright violet; on second glance, he noticed her eyes were the same shocking color. Her skin was also very pale, _too_ pale for a normal kid in Suna.

"I don't think you're…" Gaara begins. "I'm Gaara."

"I know." She chimes. "Everybody knows. They all say to stay away, but I think they're wrong. About you, I mean." Her eyes go wide in joy. "Can you make a slide?" At Gaara's confused expression, she ducks her head. "I'm sorry, am I bothering you?"

"N…No…I…" Gaara quits talking and moves the sand; it sweeps under Kaori's little feet and bounces her up. She looks a bit scared, but willing. He has the sand twist in and about as the little girl slides up and down. Kaori is soon giggling in absolute mirth and the crowd of children she'd left behind watch her in jealousy.

Soon enough Gaara is bouncing around the entire gaggle of kids in his sand slides. Kankurou sits on the floor smiling at the entire episode.

He rather likes the look in Gaara's green eyes. It's happy and still very shocked.

Kankurou notes grocery bags drop beside him and feels arms drape around his neck. "Now isn't that the cutest thing." Temari says. He can almost see the grin on her face.

"Temari!" he complains, wiggling out of her hug.

She rolls her eyes. "Weirdo."

"I think he has it hard, Temari."

"I think he does too." She smiles. "But he has a good brother like you to make it just a little less difficult. I saw the whole thing, you know."

"I didn't do much."

She shrugs. "All he needs is for someone to care."

Gaara isn't a monster. He's never been a monster. He was always just a little boy. A little boy, coerced to become the monster Suna feared from the pressures of the people themselves. There might be a demon living inside Gaara, but the true demon…

It's outside.

Living in the decrepit and gossipy souls of the Suna people.

Looking at his little brother, he thinks Temari's right.

Maybe caring is all it takes.

* * *

**A/N:** Woohoo! I'm back! Ahh.. I'm finally allowed to write again. (Will try harder to stay on top of work from now on...maybe.)

Oh, and Kaori means strong. Just a thought in case you wanted to know…


	8. More Than Just A Woman

_**Ch. 8:**__ More than Just a __**Woman**_

* * *

Eyes narrowed, teeth ground strongly together, fists firmly clenched, she was a frightfully terrifying thing. Beautiful too, to an outsider, he surmised. Kankurou was no fool. His sister was an angry and dangerous creature, but a beautiful one at that. He knew the meaning behind the glances the insolent shinobi gave her. He decidedly loathed the shinobi for this matter. For looking at his sister and seeing only the physical and carnal attributes she bore. He doubted his sister even knew how they saw her, or even cared. Temari is always was far too engrossed in her current passion to give mind to what opinions people think of her. She only takes notice when it was those exact opinions that separated her from whatever goal she was trying to achieve. There were lots of things Temari could accomplish had she been born male; a lot things she did _now_ that would have been far easier to achieve. In Suna, the female species was not praised for anything other than that soft frail kindness that was used to care for the young. Probably the reason she detested showing the traits of softer femininity. Despite her talents being wrought inside the wrong gender, she did extraordinary things, and never let anything distract her from the matter at hand. Temari was an amazing thing indeed.

"I'm seventeen," she seethes. "SEVENTEEN." She crosses her arms and stares furiously at the wall.

It was these particular rants she had, that Kankurou had trouble deciphering, mostly because he wasn't sure if she was just letting loose or actually wanting feedback from him. Gaara was much better at understanding Temari. An irony in itself, as Gaara had trouble understanding most any other human thing. "Temari, I don't know what that has—"

She stands up abruptly and starts pacing. She thinks best when she's in movement. A fault, he used to think; now, he's not really sure. "They push aside my points as mere fool-hardy statements of an adolescent who was swayed by the pretty words of a manipulator! They didn't even fucking listen!" She stops abruptly. A scowl worms across her face.

Temari normally doesn't curse. She finds it a derogatory way to express oneself – or at least that what she says.

"What happened?"

"What – _What happened_?!" She asks fury rising in her face. She kicks the wall and collapses again in a chair. "Kankurou," she says softly, "I have worked and worked and _worked_, just to get where I am now. I've trained so hard some days I don't think I can move, but I do; I move anyway, because well for goodness sakes' I didn't do all that work to _not_ move. So I force myself to. I try hard to. And not just physically, I mean, I've – I've learned all I can about politics because," she cradles her head in her hands, "I want to know why I'm doing what I'm doing. I know a lot. I _do_. I know more than half the idiots on the council. And I _know_ that sounds conceited, but…"

"Temari?" He knows how hard she's worked. He's seen her bleed, and break, and fumble, and worst of all, he's seen her accept the degrading words thrown upon her with a grace he thinks few people have the luck to see. He's also seen her accept the words without a trace of grace in her actions. He's seen her fall, but he's _always_ seen her stand again. She's something incredible. But even now, she isn't used to being scorned upon silly reasons.

She straightens. "Why? I mean really, _why_? I had a good point. I had an _excellent_ point. I know I did. It had proof and statistics and reason and everything, but they wouldn't even drop their callous disregard to listen for a minute. And when I'm done? They tell me I'm a child who can't hope to understand the politics of Suna. That I should go back to playing with my kunais. I mean," Her voice is rising again, "I might understand if, well, if it really _was_ about age, but they've listened to other shinobi before. Shinobi of fifteen years. I'm _seventeen_ dammit!"

He doesn't know what to say, because frankly, he doesn't know. He knows it's her gender that makes the council turn up their nose. He knows it's her affiliation with Gaara that makes them push her aside as yet another woman that's far too affectionate. He knows it's her short temper that makes them consider her ruled by purely passionate bouts of ridiculous emotion. He knows it's her determination that fills them with hatred toward her. He knows all that. But what he knows most of all is that Temari, for all her anger, hidden kindness, and stubborn-headed brashness, would be the best thing to happen to the political sect of Suna – that is, if they ever let her.

Becoming a shinobi was one thing. Temari defied conventions and proved them wrong there. Advancing to Jounin was near impossible but certainly doable for a woman.

But a politician?

That was only a position she could achieve by pleasing the people. By being _given_ that status. It was not something she could train for. Not something she could study hard for. Not something she could obtain with pure resolve. She had to gain the approval of people who had kept her down her entire life.

"I should quit the whole thing." She grumbles angrily.

Kankurou laughs.

She whips her head at him glaring. The wrath in her eyes could burn a hole through a wall, and force silence upon just about everyone's lips. It didn't quite work with him or Gaara anymore. They'd become…immune. He keeps laughing, the mirth bursting from him.

She's ready to hit him. To scream at him. To leave and wish she had never spoken a word. The shaking across her shoulders is enough proof of that.

"You and I both know that that sentence is a complete load of rubbish. You've never quit anything in your entire life; even when the whole damn world thought you should."

"I—" she begins furiously.

"You're ridiculous if you're honestly contemplating quitting now." He sits beside her and draws his legs up to the table. "Fuck, Temari, you're the superhuman bitch. Never quitting, never stopping, never giving in to pressure. Are you honestly going to tell me you're going to let those fuckers keep you where you are, when you've defied them before?"

"This is different!" she hisses. "I can't just – I can't just do what I did before! I can't just do a job two times better or even three times better than a regular male! I have to – I have to— I don't know, dammit! There's nothing that can be done! The forces in power inside this village will NEVER accept that I—"

"And when have you ever let what other's think stop you?"

"Politics is composed entirely of people's opinions!"

He looks at her calmly. "Temari, you want this."

"So what if I do?" She turns her head to the window, a bitter scowl on her lips. "It can't happen. What's the point in dreaming something that has no hopes of occurring? I might as well let it die."

"Fine. Be unhappy. Let them know they won."

She's angry again. "You couldn't face half the shit I get from them in one day! How dare you say that to me when you wouldn't do it?! When you _couldn't_! You would just let them keep your dream and live how they expect you too!" She standing again, her hands balled into tight fists, he thinks just looking at her that her rage is at the point when she stops realizing what she's doing or saying. Her nails have probably cut into her skin. She's angry at him. She's angry at the council. She's angry at Suna. She's angry at the male population.

But mostly, she's angry at herself.

"Duh, Temari. Of course I couldn't. I'm not you. You're…spectacular, you know that? I'm nowhere near as determined, and passionate, and _strong_ as you are; I couldn't even dream of doing what you've done. I couldn't overcome all that oppression." She isn't the first female to push past the sneers and prejudices of Suna. But she is one of the very few. "But if you just lie down and quit, then you aren't the Temari I grew up with. The Temari I've always admired." He sees the blood trickling down over her knuckles. She was the craziest female he'd ever met. Truly. "Don't let them win, Tem. You'll hate yourself for the rest of your life if you do."

His mind drifts back to the past, when he himself had been ready to quit being a shinobi. When he was going to drop his dream.

"_Shut up. Look, idiot, don't you dare give up. I'll help you." She snapped angrily._

"_You have a hard enough time doing things for yourself as it is."_

"_Who cares? I won't sleep then. No big deal. What is a big deal is you thinking you can quit. Only losers quit. Quitting is only for the sane. If you pull through the pain and hardship you lose your sanity, but you get to see and live all kinds of crazy things."_

_He scoffed. "Oh yeah? Like what?"_

_A soft grin spread clearly across her lips and a sparkling longing in her eyes he'd never really seen. He thought maybe, if she smiled like that more often, he would find her less intimidating. "Your dreams." She whispered it like it's the greatest vision. Like it's magic_.

"Quitting is only for the sane, Tem." He grins. "Don't you wanna see the magical fucking insane things?" A smirk, a challenge is in his eyes. Temari has yet to turn down a decent challenge, a ribbing on her skills. "What? Is my big blonde sister afraid of a little hostility?"

"Why don't you just shut up?" She snaps. "Idiot. I swear." She sits back down and sighs. "You're not supposed to use my own words against me."

"Then you shouldn't have said such wise words to begin with."

She scoffs, "Wise? You say I'm off my rocker every time I talk to you."

"All genius requires lack of sanity."

She raises an eyebrow, "Oh? So now I'm a genius?"

Kankurou leans back in his chair. "Eh, you try."

She sighs irritably and kicks the leg of his chair. He falls to the floor with _**crash**_!

"Oy, not cool!" He shouts.

She leans down to the floor and kisses his forehead. She doesn't do that much.

She hugs him. Berates him. Yells at him. Smacks him. But she doesn't kiss him much.

"You're insufferable, but I love you. Thanks. I needed that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He grumbles picking himself up from the floor. "I can really feel the love, insulting me and knocking me to the floor. It's so endearing."

She grins. "I'm glad you think so."

Things would be a lot easier for her if she had been born male. But she wouldn't quite be Temari if she wasn't female. And he wouldn't be himself either. It was hard for her, but he was secretly glad that she went through so much; it was what made her really special.

Maybe one day, a real shinobi could look at her and see what Kankurou saw. Instead of the attributes the other shinobi focused on. Maybe one day, someone could understand her, and show her not all men were fucking assholes.

For now, she had him and Gaara.


	9. Differences and Strength

_**Ch. 9:**__ Differences and Strength_

* * *

She's never really felt the same way about her youngest brother as she does for Kankurou. It's not something bad, she thinks, it's just different. It's probably the fact that she never could get close to him when they were younger that conspires this difference. It's probably the fear of the past that makes her feel differently toward her youngest brother. 

She's never quite sure what to call it. This odd barrage of emotions she feels concerning the redhead. Temari knows it's neither good nor bad. It just _is_.

She feels guilty quite often. She always has, because of the way she's treated him in the past, the way she _used_ to feel.

She feels quite different toward him now. It's hard not to.

He hasn't threatened to kill them in such a long time; so long that the days she couldn't go by without one threat seem more of a boorish nightmare than reality. That doesn't mean it didn't happen, Temari has more than enough scars – physical and emotional – to prove that it did. Strangely enough, Kankurou had the easiest time accepting Gaara's change. Temari has always felt slightly bitter that her younger brother, the sarcastic joking _bully_ could accept the fact that Gaara was a different person more readily than she could.

Sure, she had always felt an odd bond and inkling of love toward the redheaded boy, but accepting his change was harder than she thought possible. It stood to reason he was a better person. He didn't threaten them any more, his eyes no longer held the familiar bloodlust, and she wasn't kept awake by screams inside the house anymore.

Temari had always found it disturbing that Gaara used to kill their servants.

Gaara was more caring over his teammates now; he took orders much better; and – and the boy actually seemed to be trying incredibly hard to get close to them. Despite all these signs, Temari had been unable to release her previous image of her demonic blood-crazed youngest brother. To be honest, Temari imagined that the reason she couldn't pry her fingers from that thought was because…she was more afraid of him _changing_ than she was of him staying the same.

A monstrous Gaara, she understood; in a frightening way she understood that Gaara. But…_this_ Gaara. It was odd and daunting. He was better, yes, but…she was scared of not measuring up. She was afraid that Gaara could change and _be _normal and LIVE normally, and that would leave her…out. She always felt she wasn't quite what a normal sister should be like. And even then she always felt she could never be quite what she was _trying_ to be. She used to be able to say that she was doing quite well considering the obstacles she'd had to face, but Gaara had more obstacles than anyone else and if he could…_if he could_…

She was afraid of a lot of things.

She was afraid that this would change her perception of herself and afraid that her family – as dysfunctional as they were – would finally realize she served no other purpose than to keep Kankurou from sticking his foot in his mouth and getting them both killed by their younger brother.

What else had she done for them?

She was terrified her two younger brothers would turn their backs on her upon realizing she really didn't matter. There were times she hated her brothers, and then there were the times she loved them. Regardless how she felt about them, she knew that she needed them. And she was afraid they wouldn't need her anymore.

She _still_ felt that fear now.

She still felt it gnawing at her insides, but she'd come to realize that she had to let it go. Gaara was changed. And he was better for it.

They were all better for it.

Fear or no fear.

She thinks that must be the biggest reason why she feels quite so different toward Gaara.

_He's not the same. _

When he was a demon, he was a brilliant one – all blood and gore and no sentiment at all. Now that he's (as Kankurou puts it) 'human', he's a brilliant human as well – he cares and tries, and held a very noble and prestigious dream. Gaara is extraordinary. Born into hardship and still almost perfect. He's always had extreme talent.

He even accomplished his dream – despite EVERYTHING.

It leaves her bitter with jealousy sometimes.

Not that she's ever told anyone this.

She makes her way carefully up the stairs, a tray of food in her hands. It's late, and Gaara had declined coming down to dinner. Even though she's jealous sometimes doesn't mean she's uncaring. Her littlest brother needs to eat. It's important. She stops before the door of his office. Shifting the tray in her hands so she can balance it neatly with just one hand, she uses the other to turn the knob, and she walks inside.

Temari's never bothered to knock in any of the doors in the house. Kankurou constantly berates her for it, and Gaara always calmly asks her to knock before entering every time. She's never yielded to either of their 'requests'. Why? She finds she can think of no particular reason. She just doesn't want to knock. Personal choice that really has no reason to it.

"Gaara? I brought you dinner." She says as she walks into the room shifting the tray once more. Chicken salad, crackers, and grape juice. Not much, she thinks looking at it, but she barely got home today. She didn't have time to make anything really…complex. He has no right to complain, _He_ gave her the mission after all.

"Go away." Gaara rasps clearly.

His office is dark. Temari scowls irritably and places the tray onto his desk with a nice slam. She wants him to hear the offense she feels not only in her voice but in her actions as well. "You know, you are one _rude_, ungrateful, little brat." How does he even work in this room? It's so dark it's impossible to see anything! "I just came home from a damn exhausting mission _you_ sent me on; I bring you dinner and you just order me to—"

"I'm sorry for being rude, Temari." Gaara says hoarsely. His voice is strained and he's standing by the window. "But please, leave."

She looks at him for the first time that day. The moonlight streaming in from the window lets her see him more or less. His back is to her and he's looking out the window, or so she thinks. One of his hands is pressing against the wall – he seems to be leaning on it. His entire body seems to be screaming in exhaustion and when she looks closely she can almost swear his hand is shaking. "Gaara—"

"I appreciate the sentiment. Now go to sleep. You're tired. I can hear it in your voice."

Her fingers slide against the wood of his desk. "You can't get rid of me that easily." She chastises him. "I can tell you're tired too. What is wrong with you?"

"Temari—"

"Gaara, I'm your older sister. You can't boss me around. Now, as I said before, _what_ is wrong with you?" She walks over to him and stands to his left. She still can't see his face. The shadows of the room are hiding it.

He doesn't reply.

He still wants her to leave. She knows. But that doesn't mean she'll do what he wants. Can't spoil her younger brother now can she? Being Kazekage is spoils enough. She looks out the window, letting her eyes roam across the village below. "You know, I won't leave until you tell me."

"…I could lie to you."

The entire village is sleeping. It's an interesting sight. With the lights out and the moonlight bathing the houses and a few odd twinkling lights, you could almost swear this was a beautiful, sheltered, and _loving_ place to grow up.

Hmph!

What a lie.

"You don't like liars, Gaara. You wouldn't lie, even if you really wanted me to go away."

He sighs softly. "Kankurou is easier."

"Probably why you love him more."

She's always thought this. Kankurou and Gaara have a bond she's not privy to. A bond that seems to run so deep and strong she knows she can't ever be part of it. She has a different relationship with her brothers. It's not worse or more strained, it's not better or happier, it just…It just _is_.

"I don't love him more than you, Temari."

"You do. You don't know it really. But you do."

It hurts her sometimes, but she's learned to live with it.

"It has nothing to do with amount. It's…just _different_." He explains in a strained voice.

There's that word: _different_. It's almost as if it's the only fitting word to describe their dysfunctional relations. They don't act normally, not that Temari thinks that's a bad thing. It's interesting. Probably the only sane route. The normal standards of the world are impossible for their family to achieve. And the normal standards of Suna aren't preferable to anything. Different. Different was different and it seemed the only logical explanation, but very few people could accept that reason. Temari didn't know if she accepted Gaara's reason. _Did_ he love her the same? Was it merely _different_ and nothing to do with subjective amounts? She didn't think so. But then, 'different' was a hard concept to grasp unless you yourself put it forward. "You still haven't told me what's wrong." She points out softly. The night, she finds, makes her voice softer and in Kankurou's view, less bitchy. He'd told her once her voice almost sounded feminine and caring at night. Hmph! She always cared. Just…differently. But then, Kankurou and Gaara both knew _that_ quite well. It was the games they'd play.

"I don't…" He stops. "Why do you care?"

"Mm…Lots of reasons." _Because you're my younger brother. Because I want to make up for all the caring I wasn't able to do when I was young and fearful. Because I'm worried about you. Because it's my duty. Because there's lots of stupid reasons I don't understand but keep me worried._ She wasn't sure to be honest which reason would be best. Which reason out of the million she had that would actually make sense to him. "Mostly, because I love you."

"Love is—"

"Love makes you do stupid things. And not all love is bad. Some love endures through ash and fire."

"Hn."

"I _do_ love you, Gaara. Will you tell me what's up?"

Gaara's shoulders tense.

"Gaara?" Temari asks in fear. Not fear _of_ him, like before. Fear _for_ him.

"Temari, look at the moon."

She complies. She's never liked the moon. Even though its beauty is spectacular, she's never liked the moon.

Its round and full and shining down…

_It's full…_

The reason she's never liked the moon is because before Gaara had always become more volatile during full moons; the Shukaku winning over what little humanity he held. It was different now…Or so she thought. "Gaara, is…Is Shukaku…?"

"He wants blood, Temari."

She probably should be afraid. Just a little. Of the Shukaku. Of a possible transformation. But she's just worried – worried for Gaara. Worried for his health. The problem is that there's no pill or food or drink she can make to push the demon back down inside.

"He wants yours right now."

He probably hopes that telling her this will make her retire. Instead her hand edges to Gaara's shaking one and closes around it. She squeezes it. "You're stronger than it is."

"It…It's hard." He says, almost whispers.

"Gaara, look at me."

"I don't – I don't want to, Temari."

"You won't lose control."

"You don't know that."

He's right. She doesn't know that. She just…has an inkling. She has faith. She has…all those stupid meaningless things that parents were supposed to give their children. Things neither her, nor Kankurou, nor Gaara ever received from any adult. "Please. Just look at me."

Tentatively, he raises his head. His eyes flash furiously. They're green and then they're gold and then green again. He's fighting inside with it.

She looks at him, and finds it odd to discover she finds no fear within her. No fear at all. Because even though she can see Shukaku's eyes flash inside her brother, she doesn't believe in the demon. She doesn't care for the demon. Because this person before her is simply Gaara. "You're strong, and you've done lots of things to be proud of. The Shukaku is nothing." She wraps her arms around his shoulders and squeezes him tight. "You are _not_ that demon."

Gaara stands rigidly at first, then leans into her hug. She can feel him shaking and fighting the demon. She can tell it's hard for him. But he'll win. He always does.

At some point they both slide down to sit on the floor leaning against the wall, but Temari never lets go of her youngest brother. Her arms wrapped around the red head, he leans into her. She can feel his uneven breath on her skin and furious grumbles that slip from his lips here and there. He's fighting it.

Temari is tired and her eyelids are heavy. She feels bruised and sore and wants nothing more than to lie in her bed to rest. But she doesn't. She stays up all night listening to her brother fight his very real, very solid demon. She holds him tightly and says nothing, but is there for him.

The food is forgotten.

Later when the sun rises, Gaara stirs inside her embrace. He looks at her with compassionate eyes. "Temari—"

"Oh, is it morning, already?" She stretches slightly and stands, even though her knees feel wobbly and she's afraid she might just fall right to the floor if she tries to walk.

"I…Thank you, Temari. I—"

She interrupts him promptly. "No need. You're my brother." She takes a step slowly, testing out her bones and muscles. She isn't very graceful when she's feeling perfectly fine, let alone when she feels dizzy and exhausted like this.

_Don't fall. Don't fall._ She prays silently.

_Yes!_

"So, ano," she begins as she picks up the tray from the desk, "what do you want for breakfast? Since you _clearly_ neglected to eat dinner."

"Temari, go to sleep."

"You need to—"

"I'm not asking you to. I'm giving you an order."

Temari raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? Well, since when have I ever bothered to listen to the 'orders' you and Kankurou try to give me?"

Gaara's eyes were cold and authoritative. "Since I threatened to restrict your missions to D rank if you did not."

"When did you—" She narrowed her eyes. "That's abusing your power."

"Yes, well, Kankurou is a negative influence. Now, go to sleep. I don't care if you're my sister and one of the best shinobi we have. I will follow through on my threat. I KNOW you don't want to be restricted to D ranks."

"What will you and Kankurou eat, then?"

"We'll figure that out."

"Will you burn down the kitchen?" She pauses. "Or any other part of the house?"

"We'll eat out."

She purses her lips. "Fine." She gives him the tray and turns on her heel. Her brother may be a talented one, and he may be able to overcome all the oppression, and meet every role with excellence, but he's human like she and Kankurou. He's normal and has a tough time with things like the rest of them.

And it's just that very thing, which makes him so much more spectacular than she'd previously thought.

"You know, Gaara," she says as she leaves his office, lingering by the doorway. She's looking ahead, not at him. "You're something special."

"…" She's almost out of the hallway, but she can hear him. "You're better."

She smiles. Not because she's thinks he's right, but because it's nice to hear things like that. She's normal. And the problem with being normal, is normal people always wish they could be better than they are.

Yes, she incredibly jealous of her youngest brother.

And yes, the way she feels toward him isn't the same as anything else.

And yes, she doesn't quite feel like she fits with him and Kankurou the same way as they do eachother.

They are different and they are separate. Each of them aren't quite like they should be: together _and_ apart.

It's not bad.

And it's not good.

It's just…

Different.

It just _is_.

* * *

**A/N:** This was around the third chapter of this story I wrote. I started writing them as just stories of them when they grew up, then I changed my mind... I'm just very contradictary. One of the first ones, which was inspired to me because of one of Yumi-maki's (at least I THINK it was yumi-maki, if it was somebody else, well I'm very sorry, I like giving credit where it's due) stories. I really wish I could remember the name of it so I could urge you guys to go read it. It really was good... Curse my bad memory. 

I should just erase this author's note...Nah.

I don't think this one's as good as the earlier ones. Am I right or I have I just reread it so much that it's starting to get to me?


	10. Threats and Broken Bones

_**Ch. 10:** Threats and Broken Bones_

* * *

That shinobi, _Makoto Dajiin_, leans against the wall, laughing. He's very lean with wiry muscles, a cheeky grin, and his brown eyes are always twinkling. He's a good shinobi, always completing missions efficiently, and his power is quite to be in awe of. He's never overly smug and never heedlessly vicious. He's good-natured, confident, and ambitious. Gaara should like him. He really should, but… "I don't like him." Gaara mentions to Kankurou as the puppeteer selects the groceries they need. Gaara's eyes settle on that shinobi and Gaara's more certain than ever that he doesn't like him. It's not that he's doing anything…_wrong_ at the moment, really, it's…something else. His voice maybe. Something about the manner in which he's acting convinces Gaara his first impression of the shinobi was right, no matter what things Temari says about him. 

Kankurou turns to look out the window at Makoto as well. "Why not?" The puppeteer looks curiously at a red pepper before tossing it back in the bin replacing it instead with cups of instant ramen.

Gaara continues looking out the window as Kankurou gets the groceries they need. Why, indeed? There were a couple reasons, most of which he couldn't really explain. "I…I don't like the way he looks at Temari."

Kankurou stands beside him looking out the window. He sighs. "Yeah, me neither. I'd kinda hoped I'd imagined the look though."

Gaara frowns, "You hoped…?"

Kankurou pays for the groceries. "Well…Temari likes him, and well, interfering because I don't like the way he looks at her isn't…something you or I should do. She's big enough to make her own decisions."

Gaara struggles to comprehend. People are still very complex to him, most of the social rules make little to no sense to him. This statement is one of the many that doesn't make sense to him at all. "Even the really old and wise make bad decisions."

"The only thing I have against him is how he looks at her." Kankurou grumbles. "That's not a good reason to do anything. Men are _supposed_ to find their girlfriend attractive."

"But it's different. Isn't it?" He didn't know why he found the look so unsettling, but he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. "The way he looks at her, it's not…Is that the way that…?" When he thought hard about it, he realized that the look strongly reminded him of the one their old 'sensei' had given Temari before. That episode hadn't ended well… The look wasn't a parallel – in fact they weren't very close at all; what was similar to him about them was the bad feeling it gave _him_ upon seeing the look.

"Yes… No." Kankurou grimaced. "I really don't know."

Gaara picks up the grocery bags. "Well, what reason do you have for not liking the look?"

Sighing, Kankurou walks out the store, hands drawn behind his head. "It makes me think he looks at her like…property."

"Property?"

"Like she isn't…you know, human? Just his. His…_item_. But then again, I could be imagining things."

Gaara thinks about it. "I…I don't think you are. Imagining it, I mean." Now he could put a name to the reasons he couldn't understand. Temari was and always would be an independent person. She liked to do things because she wanted to do them. She liked being who she was even if nobody wanted her to be that way. She was air that had learned to struggle and became wind. Being an object did not suit Temari and it never would. You can't catch the wind. It confused him as to how she hadn't noticed the look Makoto gave her yet. Blinded by her affections perhaps.

The council naturally loved their 'union'. Gaara was starting to understand why the council members were so in favor of their relationship. They wanted Makoto to tame her.

It was enough to make him seethe.

He and Kankurou walk back home; Gaara spares another glance at that shinobi. He was now leaning forward toward a soft-haired brunette civilian. Gaara stops walking in a trance.

Kankurou turns his head and sighs in irritation. He walks over to Gaara a scowl on his face. "What are you doing? We're supposed to…" Kankurou's eyes narrow as Makoto leans forward, touching his lips to the civilian's. "Asshole." He hisses. Kankurou starts forward in Makoto's direction.

Gaara sees her before Kankurou. He's not sure why he does it, but he whips out his sand at Kankurou's feet, making the puppeteer fall to the floor. It's loud and _everyone_ hears. Makoto jumps away from the civilian girl.

Gaara winces as he feels her hand smack the back of his head. She's scowling, a little angry, but mostly befuddled. Temari's green eyes stare at him in confusion. "_Baka_, why'd you trip him?"

She didn't see Makoto.

Good.

He just stares blankly at his sister. Gaara spares a warning glance at Kankurou. There's no room for his hysterics at the moment. Maybe later; just…not now.

He's not keeping the truth from her, he reasons; he's just…he doesn't think seeing that would have…have… it wouldn't…it would _hurt_ her.

Temari rolls her eyes as Kankurou pulls himself up, a deadly glare in his eyes. "What are the bags for?"

"We ran out groceries." Kankurou says a bit too angrily.

She raises an eyebrow. "What's with you?"

"Nothing."

She scowls. "Alright, what's going on?" She glares at them. "Spill."

More words than he's ever said form on the tip of Gaara's tongue. Temari is special; she doesn't deserve what that idiot is doing to her. The words die before he can even open his mouth as Makoto slings his arm brotherly-like around Gaara's shoulders. Gaara has the strong urge to envelope the shinobi in his sand coffin.

"Hey, Temari." Makoto smiles easily.

Temari's scowl falls easily and her smile reaches her eyes. "Hey."

Kankurou grinds his teeth together.

"Mind if I borrow your brothers?"

Temari wrenches the bags from Gaara's hands. "Go ahead." She looks at both him and Kankurou severely. "But we are talking about your weird behavior later, got that?" Temari kisses Makoto on the lips and heads back home. Kankurou looks ready to murder Makoto as soon as Temari's back is turned.

"I take it you saw me with Jin?"

Kankurou lunges at Makoto. Gaara holds him back with his sand. Even though he doesn't want to. Even though he himself wants to break every bone in Makoto's body.

"What," Kankurou growls angrily, "are you holding me back for?!"

Makoto smirks. "Because, your brother knows harming me isn't a smart political move. You, Kankurou, have never been too good in political matters."

"Who gives a _fuck_ about political bullshit!? I'm going to rip your lungs out from your body and throttle you with your own—"

"Kankurou, shut up." Gaara orders.

"You can't be serious!? You're putting appearances above our own damn sister!"

Makoto grins. "That's how a Kazekage must act."

"Shame I'm not a good Kazekage."

Makoto's brow furrows, "W-what?"

His sand darts out at Makoto's knee.

"FUCK!"

"You're missions are suspended due to your unfortunate accident."

Makoto is gripping his knee and glaring at him. "My _what_?!" he hisses.

He wants to hurt him far worse, he wants to kill him, murder him. But Gaara knows there are better ways to deal with things. "And due to your clumsy nature," at this Gaara lets go of Kankurou momentarily, the puppeteer lunges at the shinobi, he punches the Makoto and blood spills from his mouth. Makoto swears again, and Gaara once more restrains Kankurou, "Your missions will be restricted for quite awhile."

Makoto's eyes are stony. "What the hell is your—"

"You will tell Temari what you are doing." Gaara orders him, "or similar _accidents_ may continue."

"There's no damn way I'm telling that whore—"

Kankurou struggles against the sand.

Gaara's eyes narrow. "You are telling Temari, or I will personally ruin any prospects you have of advancing from your current position. In fact, I'll demote you."

Makoto grits his teeth, "You can't. That's abusing your power; they'll have you sprung up from your status before you can—"

"Do you really find me such a fool, Makoto?" Gaara interrupts. "I will find ways to do what I will with reasons I plant. Don't cross me."

He can see gears turning in Makoto's mind. "Fine, I will—"

"And don't think you can lie." Gaara says to him, venom laced with every word. "We have our ways; we'll find out if you have told Temari the entire truth."

Makoto's eyes are furious. "I wouldn't dream of lying, Kazekage-_sama_."

"If, by chance you're stupid enough not to have confessed by tomorrow afternoon, I will let Kankurou loose on you. He has less restraint than I have."

Early the next morning, an ugly crack is heard all throughout the house.

"Fucking bitch!!" Makoto yells, cradling his arm. "You _and_ your family are fucking psycho! Here I thought you were sane!"

Gaara sits at the foot of the stairs watching the interaction. He'd been going downstairs to eat breakfast, when he was greeted with the sight of Temari snapping Makoto's arm. Temari's eyes are dangerous and the turn of her lips show off a Temari Gaara's seen only a few times in his life. This is the Temari he used to be fascinated by when his only thirst was for killing. This is the Temari he was awed by when she tried to make him Kazekage. This is the Temari Gaara is just a little bit afraid of.

He probably wouldn't be afraid if he didn't know what she could do. Granted, she looked terrifying, but that alone didn't scare him. What fills him with the small amount of fear, are the things she does when she is this angry. Sometimes they're good and noble things, sometimes rash and impetuous things.

"Listen, _jackass_," she says in that deadly tone, "you're right, we're nuts. But if you _ever_," she presses her foot onto his broken arm. Makoto's eyes squeeze shut in pain, "call either of my brothers psychos again, in my presence of anybody else's, I'll castrate you."

His eyes open wide. "You fucking crazy bitch."

She pushes his foot into him harder. "And don't forget it, asshole." She removes her foot and kicks him in the ribs. "Get the fuck out."

Makoto scrambles out.

Temari straightens again. He watches her transformation. The shaking across her shoulders steadies, her eyes soften, and she's breathing normally again. "Gaara," she says, a smile growing on her lips, "you can move from the stairs now."

He obliges and walks over to her. "You should've broken both arms."

She laughs. Temari cocks her head and looks at him meaningfully, "Why did you make him tell me?"

"I didn't."

"Don't lie, it's unbecoming."

"I figured you had a right to hear it from the devil's lips." He pauses and looks at her eyes. She's sad, he can see that. But then, he expected that to happen. He doesn't like to see the sparkle fall from her eyes, but you can't protect people all the time. The best way to protect them is to let them confront things. "That and I thought you should get the privilege of harming him and act on your anger as you heard the truth. Kankurou and I shouldn't do the beating up for you."

"Oh, really?" She raises an eyebrow. "Then what's with that knee injury of his?"

"He's awfully clumsy."

Temari laughs fully and her arms encircle around him. He smells her scent as it envelopes him. He likes the way she smells, strongly like cinnamon and maybe oranges. What he likes most is how her arms feel when she hugging him tightly. It's weird to him, but weird in a way that is really…nice. She's his sister, and it's moments like this that make him realize it more fully. She pulls apart from him, but not before planting a kiss on his forehead.

"You're really sweet, Gaara. Weird, but sweet." She ruffles his hair.

He pushed her hand aside a bit reluctantly. "Temari."

"Ay, ay," she rolls her eyes, "you're turning into Kankurou, you know? So reluctant at just an itty bit amount of affection." She pauses, "Kankurou knows doesn't he?"

"He was with me."

"And how on earth did you get him not to—"

"I restrained him." Gaara shrugs, "But, he did, ano, punch him."

"Hn." She's sad again. He can see it in her eyes.

"T-Temari," he pauses, unsure. Usually Kankurou is the one who cheers her up; he's actually good at it. But the puppeteer had to go on a mission. Gaara can't really – he doesn't know how to make someone feel better. Not the way Kankurou does. He can't joke with her until a full blown smile or uproarious laughter falls from her mouth. He just…can't.

"Yeah?"

"Don't … Don't be sad."

She pulls back abruptly, blinking repeatedly, pure shock upon her face. "I – _what_?"

"Makoto is jerk. Don't be sad because of him."

She hugs him again and this time she's really smiling. "You always astonish me, you know that?"

He frowns, "I…?"

"It surprises me that the boy everyone thought was the devil incarnate is one of the very few males in Suna who _isn't_ a heartless asshole." Her smile is evident in her eyes and Gaara feels happy. Because his sister is genuinely happy.

"You'll find a good one." Gaara says without thinking, "Maybe not in Suna, but you'll find him."

She raises an eyebrow. "And who might you be talking about?"

Gaara is surprised to find that an image of the lazy shadow ninja with the funny ponytail is the one that pops up in his mind at her words. "N-nobody in particular…"

He can sense her speculation, but she drops it. "Come on, I'll make you breakfast. What do you want?"

"Can you make French toast?"

Temari is incredibly special and she deserves someone who can see that. Someone who sees her flaws and her strengths and loves every bit of her. Someone who'll be faithful to her.

It's hard, he thinks, to find someone like that, for anyone. But if anyone deserves somebody like that, his sister does.

Temari may be crazy, but she's a good kind of crazy.

* * *

**A/N:** I had to mention Shikamaru. I'm sorry, but it just had to be done.  Oh, and Makoto means sincere/honest (I thought it would be cute to play with that) and Jin means tenderness. 

So, I'm officially out of ideas for this series, so at this point, I'll put it under complete, but if I ever get another idea some day for it, well you know. And if you have any suggestion you'd like to see that's good too. I'm working on one suggestion right now but I can't find what to write…


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